


Meet Me At The Asylum

by Lost_Elf



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Asylum, Badass Handsome Jack, Crying, Depression, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Baggage, Feels, Gentle Jack, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Burn, Spoiling my baby Rhys, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Surgery, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-24 22:16:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 71,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22265314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Elf/pseuds/Lost_Elf
Summary: Rhys is a long-term patient in the Helios St Angel psychiatric hospital. He had gone through some hard times that led to some bad life choices, leaving him crippled and considered a danger to himself. He is content with his life, though. In the asylum, he is safe.Rhys' life turns upside down when he gets a new roommate. The notorious CEO of Hyperion, Handsome Jack, was admitted by accident, and his (doubtful) sanity becomes the push the young patient needed. With Jack, he is going to leave the safe walls of the asylum and face real life. And this time, he is determined to win.But this kind of illnesses doesn't heal on command, and Rhys has a long way full of medication, therapy, love and talking to his friends ahead of him if he wants to finally beat his demon. He is not alone, though. This time, he just has to make it.**** COMPLETED ****
Relationships: August/Rhys (Past), Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands), Timothy Lawrence/Wilhelm (background)
Comments: 51
Kudos: 206





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my awesome beta [SparkyNomad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkyNomad/pseuds/SparkyNomad)!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my birthday gift to you all! I've been working on this story for long, an I'm so excited to finally share it! Enjoy my attempt at slow burn. (It might not look like slow burn at first, but it is.)

“ _Fuck you!_ Don’t you know who I am? You can’t do this!”

Looks like Rhys’ new mate won’t be much better than Snoring Jim. He sighs, and tries to focus on reading, filtering the fighting, screaming and swearing behind his door out. Those who believe that they don’t belong to an asylum are the worst. Hopefully, this one won’t turn out to be a paedophile politician who should be in prison instead. Rhys’s had enough of that.

Gradually, fighting dies out, while swearing turns even more loud and graphic. _I’ll tear off your balls and make you eat it!_ Not like Rhys hadn’t heard that one before, but never from a man who is probably being forced into a straitjacket.

Finally, last snarls are made, and the man is pushed into the room. Rhys makes sure to finish the page before putting the book aside and raising his gaze.

 _Oh God_. Lucky stars are on his side, this time. The man is _handsome_ , fuck! He looks kinda dumb just standing there in the straitjacket, staring at Rhys as if the other patient was about to jump up and bite him, but that doesn’t change anything about how terribly _hot_ the newcomer is. Hell, if Rhys is getting assaulted in his sleep again, he might even enjoy it. If the knife he would be assaulted with was plastic like the last time. Handsome or not, being stabbed for real wouldn’t be fun even with that face and broad chest at the source.

“Well, hello, cupcake,” the man singsongs when he decides that Rhys probably isn’t batshit crazy. He goes to sit on his bed opposite to Rhys, staring at him while making himself comfortable as if his arms weren’t bound to his waist.

“Hi,” Rhys answers, even managing to not let his interest show. “Welcome to the asylum.”

The handsome man snorts. “I don’t belong here, so—”

“Sure,” Rhys rolls his eyes. “Well, I _do_ belong here, so I might as well continue reading while you _figure out a way how to get out of here_ ,” he mimics. As he reaches for the book, intent on ignoring the man, he is stopped.

“Wait! I mean, just a second, okay? Then you can read, and I’ll be quiet. A mouse. A goldfish.”

“None of that is actually very quiet, you know,” Rhys points out with a smirk.

“Smartass, aren’t ya?” the man rolls his eyes, the act making him look silly, given that he must be at least ten, maybe even twenty years older than Rhys. “I need you to help me get out of this,” he moves in a way that brings attention to the straitjacket. “I need to make a small call and get the fuck out. Might even get _you_ out, if you aren’t too crazy. I’m powerful and rich. Surely there is somewhere you need to be more than here,” he raises an eyebrow, looking all smug. He really believes he has a bargaining chip in hand.

Thinking about it – _rich and powerful_ – the man _does_ look familiar. With his hair messed up, huge purple bags under his eyes, lacking his ever-present sunglasses (lo and behold, there is a huge scar going from his nose to under one eye; probably the reason he wears the accessory all the time)… This man is definitely Handsome Jack, the CEO of Hyperion. What did he do this time to end up in an asylum?

Actually, forget it; Rhys doesn’t care. “What I need the most,” he says in a low voice, leaning forward like he was about to get up and help the man, “is for my head to stop trying to kill me.” He smirks and sits back, reaching for his book.

“Wa-wait! At least help me out of the jacket!” Jack is almost pleading. “Come on, cupcake. Do one thing for me. What’s stopping you?”

“Why are you here?” Rhys asks, straightforward, placing the book in his lap. “What for?”

Jack contemplates him a little too long, so Rhys adds: “Don’t even think about lying. The truth.”

“Okay, okay,” Jack says and slouches a little, probably from trying to throw his hands in the air and being stopped by the jacket. “A crazy bitch that thinks I killed her boyfriend stalked me and my home long enough to “gather evidence” that I’m abusing my daughter, because I’m insane and hallucinating.” Anger which Rhys never wants targeted at him appears in the CEO’s face, but quickly fades away when Jack notices that it’s scaring the younger man off.

“Was it… Lilith?” he asks curiously, knowing this affair from social media.

Jack makes a face at the name, but nods. “Yes, _that_ bitch. For the record, I am _not_ abusing my daughter; I’d _never_ hurt her. I’m not keeping he prisoner in my house, and I’m not…” he makes another disgusted face, “ _using_ her. And I didn’t kill that man, Roland. And I _don’t_ have hallucinations.”

“Done talking?” Rhys asks when there finally is silence. “I have a book to read, and I’d rather be deep in its story when my happy pills stop working.”

“Get me out of this thing, and I’ll be quiet; promise!” Jack pleads again. “I need to get back home as soon as possible.”

“I can’t help you, Jack.” Rhys definitely gets a little power-boner at being able to call the CEO of Hyperion by his name, acting like they are equals. “I won’t get to have dessert after dinner if I do that, and today is a brownie. And,” he starts listing facts, “you won’t get to make a call before tomorrow afternoon; they won’t let you. The fastest way out is good behaviour and talking to your doctor. If you manage not to blow up and threaten them, they might let you out by the end of the week.”

Jack groans. “I can’t be here that long. Come on, kid…”

“I’m _not_ a kid,” Rhys hisses. “And the answer is no. Now let me read, or you are dealing with me later.”

“I can do that only if you let me out…”

“Or if you shut up and I can spend the next hour and half reading. And that doesn’t require me to stand up, so I guess we have a winner.” He opens the book, bringing it high enough to not see Jack’s face.

Another groan – like a teenager, not a CEO. “C’mon, cupcake! Give me a little hand!”

That gets Rhys to drop the book in an instant. “A hand, eh?” he snarls, filled with anger which, okay, is actually good, because it means he cares about something enough to feel angry, and his therapist will be pleased, but… “And which hand would you like – left or right?” he hisses. This was uncalled for, but it made him feel good.

Jack is mostly unaffected by his outburst, but he looks confused for almost a minute before he looks lower, studying Rhys’ body. Then there is realisation in his face. “ _Oh_. Oh, no, I— I didn’t notice, really. I wasn’t making a… comment on your body. I didn’t know,” he stumbles over his words, eyes surprisingly not fixed on the empty sleeve, but still at Rhys’ face.

Now the outburst _definitely_ feels uncalled for. “No, no, I’m sorry. I’m just… not used to that. People usually… Never mind.” He turns his head away, face red in shame.

“People what?” Jack asks, leaning forward. “Are you saying that you are used to people being weird about something like this? Injuries are normal; there is nothing wrong about that. And, you know what – Hyperion’s cybernetics are advancing _fast_. When it is completely safe, I might get you a nice new arm, if the nerves in your shoulder aren’t dead yet.”

“Let me guess – that is if I help you out of that jacket?”

“Even if you don’t – I’m that nice,” Jack winks. “Though I won’t be mad if you _do_ help me.”

Rhys laughs. “One more thing… Did you really not notice it?” he gestures towards his shoulder, feeling a little vulnerable, but he wants to know.

“Honestly, no,” Jack admits. “Was busy staring at that pretty face of yours, and they also took my lenses, so my sight is worse.”

Rhys scoffs. “So, you’re blind as a bat, but you know that my face is pretty? Expected better from a wordsmith like you.” He laughs at the powerful man’s expense, but he does say a silent goodbye to the brownie and gets up to undo the buckles that keep Jack in the jacket. “If you get a brownie after this, it’s mine. Understood?” he points a finger at him.

“Loud and clear, princess,” the CEO grins. He makes no move to get up when Rhys sits back on his bed.

“Aren’t you trying to break out or something?” Rhys teases, suddenly unable to read with the other man present.

“No, I don’t think so. You got a point there, that I need to act nice.” He makes himself comfortable on the bed, staring in front of himself. Soon, he starts dozing off.

Rhys’ gaze is transfixed on the handsome face, so relaxed and calm in front of him. Somehow, without the glasses covering the scar, he is even more good-looking. And God, is it getting hot in here…

“See anything you like?” Jack asks, startling Rhys. His eyes are still closed, arms behind his head, but he is definitely not as much asleep as the younger male thought.

“And what if I do?” he mutters, pouting and turning away.

“Usually I’d say come and get it, but I heard that it’s forbidden in this facility. So, I guess you can just watch and dream…”

Another weird thing about that guy. Not only did he not notice that there is a big piece of Rhys missing, and was cool about it after it was revealed, but he was alright joking about him being gay? Was it just a joke, or did he really realise that and was cool with this too? That would be so unusual, probably the first person since Vaughn. Rhys can’t help it; Jack receives a lot of bonus points for that. For looking at him like he would be anybody else.

Deep in thought, he doesn’t even realise that he isn’t reading, and there is suddenly only forty-five minutes until he gets the next dose of his medication. Looking at the wall clock, he begins to feel the foul mood he normally feels when the effect wears off. His left hand shaking is the worst of the effects, the tick in his left eye not helping at all to make him feel like a normal person.

“You can talk to me, if reading’s not helping,” Jack says in a surprisingly gentle low voice. “It’s probably my fault anyway.”

Rhys blinks. The man still looks like he is sleeping. How did he notice—?

“I can hear you fidgeting, pumpkin. Come on, talk to me. Don’t give in,” he encourages. As if he knew what he is talking about.

“Why would you help me?” Rhys asks, much meaner than intended.

“You helped me,” Jack answers immediately, and then Rhys sees something that he would never expect – the CEO of Hyperion facepalms himself _hard_. “And also, because I want to, and you don’t need to fight it yourself. God, I’m _bad_ at this. But you must see that I’m trying; and making a fool of myself is not something I would do for anyone. We are a team now, kiddo.”

Rhys keeps quiet. From enjoying the warm feeling the offer gives him he gradually goes to feeling like shit again. No, he doesn’t deserve this. There is not so long left anyway. Just a little over forty minutes. He can pull through. Surely, Jack is enjoying his view on the blank baby blue wall.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Jack keeps trying. “Or, like, a hundred bucks if you want. I’m rich.”

Rhys closes his eyes. This is the CEO of Hyperion. Wasting his time on Rhys, a poor boy who was hardly ever good at anything. He didn’t even finish school, couldn’t after the...

“Whoa, calm down, pal. You're freaking me out a little now. Take a deep breath for me, will ya?”

 _Great_ , now he is hyperventilating. He is such a piece of trash. Should have not thought about The Accident. But no, Rhys, such a genius, of course he runs straight into that shit-hole of thoughts!

The bed next to him dips, and that tears him out of the head-space for a while. He opens his eye – only the good one, and only for a second – to see Jack’s concerned face next to him.

“Hey,” the man speaks gently. “Everything is alright. Just take a deep breath, cupcake. Like me.” He inhales deeply, and Rhys tries to mimic it, so he doesn’t waste even more of Jack’s time. He fails, like always. “Good, just try again, with me,” Jack remains persistent. “Good.”

With his help, Rhys manages to get the control of his breathing back after a while. He sinks deeper into the bed after that. “Thank you,” he mutters, throat a little raw from panting. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jack shushes him immediately. “I know that mental illnesses can be a bitch. Can I get you water?”

“Please.”

Jack goes silently to take one of the plastic cups from the sink in the adjacent bathroom and fills it for Rhys, bringing it back. The younger man tries to grab it and drink, but his still shaking hand refuses to hold something that heavy, and would drop it hadn’t it been for Jack who catches it.

“Whoops,” Jack comments it, trying to lighten the mood. “Need help?”

“No,” Rhys shakes his head, face red. “I’ll drink later.”

The cup is placed on the bed nightstand, but Jack still doesn’t go away. He stays close, and when he can’t get Rhys to speak, he starts talking about himself. That he can’t wait to have a shower in his luxurious bathroom, that he needs coffee more than anything, that he misses his dogs, The Warrior and The Sentinel. It’s all surprisingly normal and human, and it actually makes Rhys listen, because not often does he get to have a look into a CEO’s life.

The never-ending speech is interrupted by a knock on the door. “Rhys Strongfork, time to get your medicine,” a voice announces. The nurse doesn’t go in, just continues to knock on random doors.

Rhys gets up, already heading out before Jack even finishes a sentence. The older man soon catches up with him, glad that he has a reason to leave the room. Rhys waits patiently in a line in front of a window, and when he receives two cups, one with various pills and the other with water, he quickly empties them both, showing the nurse that he really did swallow all the pills and walking back to Jack who had waited for him, leaning on a wall.

If Jack notices that Rhys is not shaking anymore, he is slightly smiling and much more relaxed, he doesn’t comment on the too quick change. Of course, Rhys _does_ realise that his reaction to pills is too fast. It simply doesn’t work like that. But he needs to believe that it does, because if the little red goodies stop working, he will go insane and try to kill himself again. So what if it’s placebo keeping him alive?

“Hey! I’m pretty sure I put a straitjacket on you not long ago. How did you get out?”

“Here comes trouble, huh?” Jack grins at Rhys, makes that trademark grin and begins to turn around, either set on talking his way out, or fighting.

“I let him out,” Rhys quickly steps in front of him, protecting him from the security member (or the security member from him; he doesn’t know). “It’s alright, August. He’d been friendly, and talking with someone in a straitjacket felt weird. He won’t attack anyone or anything like that.” He makes that face that always works on the blonde man, and of course his face softens in return, gaze leaving Jack to land on Rhys.

“Okay,” he nods. “But if he gives you trouble, Rhys, you know where to find me. You know I’ll beat up anyone for you.”

“Sweet,” Rhys laughs, and so does August. But they both know that it’s not as much of a joke. “Still waiting for the day Doctor Vasquez comes in with a black eye.”

“Well, anyone but him,” the blondie squirms. “And Vallory. Not gonna beat up the head of the facility where I work, not even for you, babe.”

“I’m so hurt,” Rhys clutches his heart in a mock offense. “Anyway, gotta go, dinner is soon. See ya?”

“Yeah, see you there. Wink three times if he is giving you trouble. I’ll spit in his drink.” August walks away, and Rhys turns around to see Jack clenching his jaw, the knuckles on his fists white from how hard he is holding back.

“Wow, you really are trying,” Rhys appraises. “Should even let you have your brownie for this.”

“Don’t try my patience, cupcake, or I lose it. Let’s go to our room, shall we?”

Once in there, Jack lets out an annoyed, exaggerated groan. “How can you want to be here _willingly_? With people like this? And isn’t it against the rules to have something with the staff?” he takes his attention from his anger so suddenly Rhys is shocked into an answer.

“We dated between my stays here. I stayed at his place when they released me. And that’s where he found me after drinking car antifreeze,” he sighs. “He was great at keeping an eye on me, locking my medication away and only giving me what I needed, but I... The relationship didn’t feel right. My therapist thinks I did it because I needed a way out, one where I wouldn’t hurt him by telling him that I don’t like him. I just... I don’t know why I am telling you. Sorry.” He sighs again, rubbing his face.

“Did telling me make you feel better?” Jack asks, and Rhys nods. “Then it’s fine. I’m glad you told me.”

Unused to the easiness from anyone but Maya, the therapist, Rhys fidgets for a while, and then sighs. “We should get going, or August will think that you killed me on the way or something. And spit in your drink.”

“Lead the way, then, cowboy,” Jack winks at him, and walks out first anyway. “Give me a little heads-up, pumpkin. How bad is the food?”

“Oh-ho, _bad_ ,” Rhys emphasises with a laugh. “I bet you are used to going to expensive restaurants. Having your private chef.” He ignores Jack’s raised eyebrow. “I actually think that I had a better meal in a hospital when they took my appendix out, and that says something. But... the brownies are delicious.”

“You are drooling, pumpkin,” Jack points out, chuckling.

“No, I’m not.”

“And now you are pouting! That’s so—” Jack stops laughing immediately when his eyes meet August’s at the door. The blonde man was on his way to help the ladies in the kitchen give out food when he noticed the two entering. Rhys doesn’t even notice his ex? friend? before Jack’s arm is suddenly thrown around his shoulders. He tenses up a little, but the action is friendly, and Jack has been nice to him so far, so he relaxes and gives him a small smile, oblivious to the staring contest between his ex and his new friend.

Rhys makes sure to go to the window where August hands out the trays. He is surprised when he receives two brownies, because not even August breaks the rules, ignoring Rhys’ misbehaving and even rewarding it, but then he sees no sweet on Jack’s tray, and he laughs. Petty. But he won’t complain.

Rhys can usually carry his own tray, if it isn’t something liquid in a deep plate, like today. On days like this, August walks out of the kitchen to help him carry it to the nearest table. Before he can do so, however, the tray is in Jack’s hand, and he carries it away. Rhys blushes and gives August one shy smile over his shoulder before he follows the older man.

Even though he looks disgusted and makes a lot of noises and faces to show it, Jack eats his food very fast. Part of being a businessman, probably. Then, he talks. He doesn’t ever stop talking, does he? But Rhys likes it. Jack treats him like an equal, and Rhys hasn’t been anyone’s equal in a long time.

Only when both brownies are eaten, no crumbs left behind, and Rhys is leaning back in the chair, feeling good and almost dozing off, Jack shuts up. It takes the younger man a while to notice, and he opens his eyes, a look of question for the man in front of him.

Jack looks contemplative, studying Rhys openly. His shoulder, his face, his thin form, and his face again. “I hoped that you’d fall asleep. Would be fun watching blondie try to carry you to bed.” His personality spoils the friendly way he looked at Rhys before.

The brunette rolls his eyes. “Funny. Let’s go. Or if you want to visit the library, the game room or the piano…” he suggests.

“No, thank you. Really, no need to make you all go deaf.” He gets up, leading the way to their room without hesitation. Which is admirable; the hospital is huge, and he memorized it so fast.

Jack goes to sit on his bed again, and Rhys sits on his. Immediately, he feels Jack’s gaze piercing through him. “You stare like this at everyone?” he asks. “Or am I special?”

“Very special,” Jack chuckles. “Can I see your shoulder? How did you lose your arm, if you don’t mind telling me?”

“I do mind,” Rhys brushes him off quickly. Not gonna think about The Accident. “And no… There are… It’s really ugly; the injury was big.”

“Do you think I’ve never seen anything graphic? Come on, princess. Hyperion is the biggest manufacturer of weapons… And I’ve seen my face when this happened,” he makes a vague gesture.

Not even the internet is sure about what it was. Some claim that a video exists of Jack being assaulted by a crazy red-headed woman, but Rhys wasn’t able to find it on one of his late-night adventurous delving into celebrities’ lives in order to forget about his own problems.

“Got a question, cupcake?” Jack eyes him knowingly. “I’ll tell you, if you let me see. And touch.” Seeing Rhys’ eyes widen, Jack facepalms again. “Touch the shoulder. I want to see if the nerves still react correctly. Not that I’m about to grope you… If that’s not what you want.”

“Drop it,” Rhys rolls his eyes. What’s with the flirting? Jack is straight, right? And Rhys is a nobody. “Okay,” he nods. “Tell me about your scar, and I’ll show you mine.” Feeling cheeky, suddenly, he adds: “Mine is bigger than yours, though,” and winks. He blushes immediately after, but that doesn’t stop him from enjoying the CEO’s surprised face.

“Aren’t you full of surprises…” Jack shakes his head. Then he sighs and closes his eyes. He doesn’t open them before he finishes explaining, and he talks fast. “I’m still sure it was that bitch Lilith, but they never proved it. I was making an appearance on a new mining site, talking about crap to the crowd of loyal worker bees, and suddenly, it feels like my face is melting. Never experienced a pain like this.

“Some woman ran past me with an injection full of acid and shot it in my face, somehow avoiding getting tackled by my guards. She was lighting fast. And I was, well, hurt pretty bad. Not even a lot of plastic surgery can fix it. Would even make it worse, the doctors say. My left eye was hit, but the lenses I wear make it work as new. And sometimes the scars burn as good as fresh. But that’s my therapist’s problem.”

Rhys is left gaping. He feels coldness crawl over his body, leaving goosebumps behind. This was… dark. Whoa. Very dark. Even darker than the theories he saw on the internet. Or maybe not, but hearing it from Jack himself made it really disturbing.

“My turn?” he asks.

“It would be fair,” Jack smirks.

“Fine.” He pulls the plain shirt over his head in his own clumsy way and braces himself for the—

“Wow! You really are full of surprises, cupcake! No, wait, don’t turn away. Those are pretty fucking cool.”

He blinks. Jack seems more interested in the tattoos than the scars. Blushing slightly, Rhys turns back, puffing his chest a little to show the ink off. But when he looks up and sees Jack’s hungry gaze, he pulls back again, covering himself with the shirt, at least a little.

Jack shakes his head, schools his expression, and tentatively comes to sit next to Rhys, giving him plenty of time to pull away. When Rhys doesn’t try to escape it, he gently touches the shoulder.

It’s ugly. Very ugly. It looks unnatural – a chunk of meat is missing, not only the arm – and the scars are terrible. They contrast with the beautiful tattoo almost stunningly, and it used to make Rhys feel better. But he only feels like shit lately. He used to be so pretty before…

“Everything alright, champ?” Jack asks, taking the hand away.

“Yeah… I think. You can… do whatever you wanted to do,” Rhys affirms.

Jack’s hands are not soft at all. For a businessman, he has quite a rough skin. But he is gentle when he carefully pulls and pushes at the stump, telling Rhys to relax, touching and tickling to see how sensitive the skin is. “Looks good,” he sums it up finally. “Can’t promise, but it looks really good.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Rhys quickly pulls the shirt back on. “Didn’t know you are a cybernetics expert. Thought you were something like a programmer before.”

“That I was,” Jack confirms. “But now I am the CEO of Hyperion. Need to know what my company does, right? Can’t have the fools smart-talking me to rise their budget by throwing random terms.”

Aaaaand Rhys’ admiration of the man goes up. This is getting… dangerous. “Uhm, could you…?” Rhys moves away a little and Jack takes the hint, getting back to his bed. “Thank you.”

Rhys takes a shower, brushes his teeth and lays in bed. Jack starts talking again, something about his early years as the youngest CEO. Rhys falls asleep listening to his voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, here it is. The beginning of a long story I am almost proud of.
> 
> 1\. Attack by acid is not my original idea. Credit goes to [neilwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neilwrites/pseuds/neilwrites) nad their story [The Demon I Cling To](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9950150). Jack in my story has a scar from the top of one cheek, over his eye, the bridge of his nose, to the middle of the other cheek, but he wears sunglasses and make up, so the public had never seen the scar.  
> 2\. Sunglasses don't come from my head either. Inspired by [Broken Bonds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12156003) by [PoisonJack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoisonJack/pseuds/PoisonJack).
> 
> Please, let me know if you liked it, what you didn't like, what do you think about it so far. It really helps me. Thank you all! :) Also, you can follow or contact me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ElfWriting)! ^.^


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said updates on Wednesdays and Sundays, but I got a little confused. 😅 Updates will be on Wednesdays and Saturdays.

“Rise and shine, Rhysie. Breakfast is in five minutes,” Jack shakes his shoulder.

“No, ‘s not,” he mumbles and slaps the hand away.

The older man chuckles. “Yes, it is.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No… They knock on the door and tell us to get up thirty minutes before breakfast.”

“They did so twenty-five minutes ago,” Jack points out. “You slept as the dead.”

“Are you sure?” Rhys asks, still asleep.

“I am.”

“Fuck…” he yawns. “Ouch!” Sharp pain spreads in his side. “What was that for?” he massages the pinched skin.

“Language, kiddo,” Jack chastises him playfully. “You should probably get up.”

“I should…” Rhys agrees, making no move.

“Not a morning person at all?”

When he doesn’t get an answer, Jack levels his game up. He pulls Rhys’ blanket away, letting the cold air reach his body.

“Giv’ it ba’!” he whimpers and flails around blindly, unwilling to open his eyes.

“Nope,” Jack denies, voice amused. “You have twenty seconds to get up, or you get drenched in water.”

Rhys doesn’t move, unthreatened. That is until a drop of water touches his face. His eyes shot open to see Jack holding a cup of water.

“Five, four…”

Rhys is up before Jack reaches two. He glares at him, but it probably doesn’t look very threatening. He heads to the bathroom to get his hair into some shape and brush his teeth. He comes out dressed, and Jack is still waiting.

“We’ll be late,” he notes. “Sorry.”

Jack raises an eyebrow at him. “Is arriving late a problem here? I sometimes get to meetings an hour late and no-one makes a peep about it.”

“Sometimes it is, sometimes not,” Rhys shrugs.

He knows that today it will be a problem as soon as he sees the lady waiting by the door. He silently groans and forces a smile. “Good morning, Miss Vallory,” he greets.

The imposing woman scowls at him. “You are late, Mister Strongfork. Why is that?”

He needs to pick his words carefully. He dares to hope that Jack will save him, but the man just watches the situation unfold. “I slept in, didn’t even hear the nurse waking us up. I’m sorry.”

“Are you not feeling well?” she asks him.

“Very well, actually,” he tries. This is a blind shot. Her reaction to this is always random.

“You look very tired. You might consider visiting Doctor Vasquez. Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold, would we?” Her eyes get a cruel glint; she knows how Rhys feels about that worm.

“I don’t think it’s necessary, Miss—”

“Well, I do. I’ll let him know to expect you, so—”

“Excuse me, madam,” Jack interferes. “I arrived late too. Do I need to see this Assquez too?” he asks.

Vallory squints. Then, as she probably realises who he is, she takes a step aside. “No, you don’t. You are new, it’s understandable. Now get your breakfast,” she finally lets them get in.

Rhys releases a breath when they are finally out of sight, letting out the agitation. Not Vasquez, not today. Not even the actually edible French toast they got for breakfast can fix the day now.

“So, this doctor… What’s the matter with him?” Jack asks as they walk back from the dining room, clearly finally getting fed up with Rhys being quiet while he talks.

Rhys waits before the door is closed behind them, and then plants his forehead in the nearest wall. He groans and mumbles a curt explanation, but Jack doesn’t catch it and makes him turn around.

“I hate that guy,” Rhys says.

“Figured that one out,” Jack rolls his eyes. “But why?”

“He is a creep, okay? I’m not sure whether it’s him hitting on me, or just doing it to make me uncomfortable, but he always acts so… creepy.” He groans again, remembering the last time he had a raised temperature. Damn, this is going to ruin the whole _week_ for him.

Jack frowns. “Does he do something unprofessional?” he asks.

Rhys chuckles darkly. “Very unprofessional. But what does a lunatic like me know?”

“Rhysie,” there is a warning in Jack’s voice which gets the younger man’s attention, “if he does things you don’t like, why don’t you tell anyone?”

“I _did_!” Rhys snaps, calming immediately and apologising. “I did. But Vallory likes him, so nobody takes me seriously. And he is normal towards other patients.”

“Hmm,” Jack thinks for a while. “I might pay him a visit later. Suddenly, my throat feels so sore.”

Rhys chuckles, more lightly this time. He imagines Jack kicking Vasquez’s ass _for_ _him_ , and it’s a nice picture. He doesn’t dare to take the offer seriously, though, not wanting to make a fool of himself.

“Wanna talk about it?” Jack asks. “You can tell me. I won’t judge.”

Rhys sighs. “No, it’s… nothing. It’s just that his advances make me uncomfortable. It’s not like I can’t handle a simple doctor visit,” he makes sure to avoid Jack’s eyes, “but he always insists on using the rectal thermometer, and exanimating my prostate, and touching me everywhere to check whatever… Slimy worm. And he acts like he’s my father or something, which is even more disgusting.”

Rhys finally looks up to see Jack getting very angry. His shoulders are tense, his face a hard scowl. “Well,” he says, “now I hate that guy too.”

He is about to say more, but there is a knock on the door and a nurse telling them that the doctor will see Mr Lawrence now. Jack is about to talk to a psychiatrist. In _this_ mood.

“Jack, wait!” Rhys catches his wrist, unable to feel shy or self-conscious now. He owes Jack a favour. “Wait a minute. You are tense and angry. You can’t mess up this appointment, if you want to get out soon. Please, calm down.”

Jack does anything but calm down when he is stopped, tugging his wrist free. But that doesn’t stop Rhys, or maybe he doesn’t care if it unleashes Jack’s anger on him and not someone innocent. He takes another step closer, his chest pressing against Jack’s back, gently caging him against the door. His arm goes under the CEO’s, hand rests in the middle of his chest. He rests his chin on Jack’s shoulder.

“Calm down, please,” he whispers, trying to not be distracted by the older man’s pleasant scent. Not covered by any cologne, he smells warm for some reason. Smells good. But Rhys is on a mission. He remembers helping his sister calm down when she was raging over something minor. He speaks calmly, telling Jack that there will be a better time to express his indignation. That now he needs to be calm. For his daughter who is waiting, for his company, for the dogs.

Gradually, Jack relaxes, leaning into the hug slightly. “Thank you,” he mutters, voice lacking any anger. Calm. He is like a zen garden when he leaves in haste to run to the appointment. Rhys is filled with pride. He was useful. For the first time in years, he was useful.

* * *

He is glad that Jack is back before he needs to visit Vasquez. Something about Jack knowing makes him feel embarrassed, but mostly, he feels safer with him. Jack listens to him and helps him.

The CEO comes back in a good mood, confident about the result of his appointment. He frowns when he notices Rhys’ nervousness, and then he remembers and grins, something wicked in his eyes. “Oh, right. It’s my time to visit a doctor.”

Rhys really hates Vasquez, but suddenly, not even the worm seems to deserve what Jack has for him.

“Jack, you don’t need to, really,” he puts his palm on the other man’s chest, subsequently feeling that he is actually very calm. That… is good, right?

“Don’t worry about me, pumpkin,” Jack smirks. “Just gonna talk about my sore throat. You can wait outside.”

Hesitantly, Rhys follows Jack, and then takes over, leading him to the doctor’s office. The door is open ajar, Hugo is expecting him. He grins at Rhys, beckoning him over, but Jack steps forward.

“Sorry, cupcake, but this is really important. Surely the doctor knows which patient’s case is more urgent.” He grins smugly when Vasquez’s mouth falls open. “Yep, that’s right. Handsome Jack, in your office. Let me guess – a fan?”

Dumbly, Hugo nods and Rhys snickers. The doctor glares at him but invites Jack inside.

It’s only about five minutes before Jack walks out, looking like he owns this place. Hugo, on the other side, is shaking when he tells Rhys to please come in. He doesn’t stop shaking and stuttering when he asks Rhys the most basic questions, not even daring to ask when was the last time he used the toilet. He doesn’t take his temperature and lets Rhys go, practically _begs_ him to go.

Jack is waiting outside the office, expectantly rising an eyebrow at Rhys. “Well?”

The younger man waits until the door is closed behind him, and then he grins. “What did you do to him? He never even got to my personal space. How?”

“Do? I didn’t _do_ anything. We had a little chat, nothing more.” His grin hints what kind of chat it was. “Do you think he pissed himself? He smelled pretty bad.”

“No, that’s his normal smell,” Rhys denies it. “But he looked like he wasn’t far from that.”

“Nice!” Jack is acting like a teenager again. “So, what do we do now? How do you spend the free time here?”

Rhys’ smile falls a little. “Hate to break it to you, but mental health facilities are very boring. There are books, board games, the piano, but that’s all. If you aren’t crazy before you get here, you go mad from the boredom.”

“And you still stay here willingly…” Jack notes.

“I do,” Rhys stays firm.

“So, what do you do besides reading?”

He shrugs, for a while searching a way out, but then he confesses. “I often play the piano and sing. The other patients like it, I think. It’s better than silence.”

Jack keeps blinking at him, so he adds to save the conversation: “We can go to the common room, play cards or something.” The older man doesn’t move. “Jack?”

When he shakes the thoughts off, he looks almost… guilty? “I wouldn’t mind listening to some music. Don’t feel like poker now.”

“Poker is forbidden anyway,” Rhys chuckles. “Not that it stops the asylum’s underground,” he adds in a playful dark whisper.

“No, no... Piano is fine... Please.”

That makes Rhys truly pause. Did he... Did Handsome Jack say please? To Rhys? About a basic thing such as crappily playing the piano. “What is this about? Why were you looking at me like that before?”

“Like what?” Jack plays dumb.

“Don’t play dumb.”

Jack sighs and rolls his eyes. “Fine... It’s just that– Angel, my daughter, plays the piano beautifully.”

Oh, so he misses his daughter... Rhys goes along with that, ignoring the unsaid _I bet you two would get along._

Rhys would find the piano room if he was completely blind. He used to spend a lot of time there before that one asshole ruined it for him. For Jack, he can forget about that insensitive comment one of the old patients made about his lack of an arm.

He goes straight for the seat, ignoring everybody in the room. It’s a room for playing music; if they want a silent room, they can get out.

He ignores Jack, too. This is no time for stage fright.

What song do you play for the CEO of Hyperion? Obviously, some of the classics won’t do. Not nearly enough fingers. Children’s songs, something that usually makes the patients here happy, might remind him of his daughter playing too much, and make him grumpy.

Rhys decides to go for one of the self-taught melodies from popular songs. It doesn’t even resemble the originals with his fucking-five-fingers adjustments, and he likes to go from one song straight to another.

It’s more than obvious that Rhys loves music more than he admitted, given that he forgot about Jack being here completely after a few minutes. Only when a warm hand lands on his shoulder does he stop playing.

“Lunch time, Ludwig,” the older man grins at him.

“Lu– Ludwig?”

Jack makes an offended face. “Ludwig van Beethoven?”

“Oh, right,” Rhys flusters. “Didn’t expect that reference, sorry.”

After they eat lunch, Rhys is in no mood for talking to Jack because it was some hard piece of meat that was hard to cut with one hand, and he is always in a bad mood after food like that. So, he welcomes having the room for himself while Jack is allowed on the phone for an hour.

He reads for a while, but soon his mind starts wandering. It’s suddenly so quiet here. Jack’s presence was... surprisingly enlightening. It was like having a friend who didn’t need to travel across the country to visit him. Selfishly, he wished Jack would stay longer. But at the same time, he desperately wished for Jack to be with his daughter again. Big happy family.

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine Angel. Jack’s blue eyes, the same brown hair, a wide grin. Jack said that she is a teenager, so she is probably stubborn like him, and they fight and then they make peace. And Jack cooks. He said that he makes the dinners. So, they eat together…

 _Really, Rhys? This makes you cry? Aren’t we past that?_ he scolds himself.

He makes sure he is smiling when Jack comes back in a good mood. “I’ll be out by Sunday,” he says with a victorious grin. “The doctor deemed me sane, my lawyers are already after that bitch, Hyperion is taken care of by my baby brother, and Angel is doing fine.” His face softens at mentioning his daughter, but then there is a playful chuckle. “Little shit. Told me to take it like a vacation and enjoy myself. She is _soooo_ grounded when I get back.”

A small cackle bubbles up Rhys’ throat and he can’t stop it before it escapes. And then another. Soon, he is laughing so hard he is wheezing, doubling over and clutching his stomach where his midriff hurts. To his surprise, Jack isn’t insulted that Rhys finds his upbringing hilarious. He starts laughing too. It even gets a nurse to check on them, and Jack thankfully lies that Rhys said something very funny, because the younger can’t even nod over the fits of laughter.

“Is this your happy pills, or am I that funny?” he teases when Rhys manages to take two even breaths in a row.

“Sorry, it’s just… so domestic! I wouldn’t expect that from you. You present yourself differently to the world.”

Jack smirks. “Can’t have my competition knowing all my weaknesses and perks, can I?”

“I guess not,” Rhys shrugs. What does a boy like him know about being a CEO? “So, everything went fine, and you will get out in less than a week…”

“Thanks to you, Rhys,” Jack reminds. Something about him using his real name gives it a heavy weight.

“I was just trying to help,” Rhys shrugs and pulls his knees to his chest defensively. He is not used to this.

“My offer still stands, you know,” Jack says quietly, coming to sit on the far edge of Rhys bed. “I am sure I can get you out if you want.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” Rhys shakes his head. “No more friends to stay with, and I can’t exactly begin to live on my own before my head is cured. But thanks,” he forces a smile that makes Jack frown. “I really appreciate it, I do.”

Jack begins to say something but stops himself. “Can’t really force this, right?” he sighs. “So, how long have you been here?”

“In and out for over five years now,” Rhys sighs. “I hadn’t been out for more than a few months at a time, and they always took me in after a… suicide attempt.” It’s shameful, but he tells Jack anyway. He wants to believe that the older man cares. “I would stay with my childhood friend Vaughn until he married. Don’t take me wrong – I love Yvette, she is the best for him, and we all get along well, but I can’t really live with them. They are a family now.

“I stayed with August the last time, and with random friends or at homeless shelters before that. I don’t have anywhere to go-o.” Okay, this definitely _wasn’t_ a sob. Just something in his throat.

Rhys closes his eyes, dreams, hopes… And then Jack is hugging him.

“Wha–? Jack, what are you–? You don’t have to,” he tries to pull away, because he’d already–

“Shut up, Rhys. I want to hug you. I would never do anything I don’t want to. I’m _Handsome freakin’ Jack_ , remember? And for some reason – that _isn’t_ pity – I want to hug you. So just… shut up.”

Rhys is silent for another minute, before a sob escapes him. He reaches up to quickly wipe away the tears, but Jack beat him to it and gently wiped his cheeks with the top of his palm. “Sorry for making you cry,” he said.

Rhys laughs softly. “I didn’t know ‘sorry’ would be in your dictionary, but I’ve already heard it from you,” he points out.

“Well, I didn’t know it too, actually. Take it that there is something special about you,” he smirks. “Feelin’ better?” he makes sure before pulling away. “So, do you want me to tell you something in return?”

Rhys doesn’t have to think for long. “About your family? You don’t need to go into details if it makes you uncomfortable, just… Your family sounds awesome.”

Jack contemplates him for a minute before making himself comfortable. “I’ll tell you why my little brother is a piece of shit.”

That feels just right. It makes Rhys remember his sisters, but in a good way. Only the memories, not the longing.

The story turns into another and another, and soon, Jack is simply telling Rhys about anything embarrassing Timothy Lawrence ever did. Rhys spends half of the time laughing, and the rest inching closer to Jack until his head is resting on his shoulder. Jack doesn’t pull away. In fact, he shifts so it’s more comfortable for Rhys.

After eating an apple for a snack, which Rhys doesn’t really like, so Jack finishes his one too, Jack pulls him towards the piano again. Rhys plays more crappy piano remixes, this time with Jack sitting next to him and clumsily pressing down on the bass keys, vaguely keeping the rhythm. “I had to practice with Angel a lot, otherwise she wouldn’t do it,” he explains.

Rhys is hit with a memory of him teaching Sasha to play Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, and he mindlessly buries his face in Jack’s shoulder to chase the sentiment away. It’s better this way. They are safer if they never see each other again. They aren’t interested.

“Sleepy already, kitten?” Jack nudges him softly, and that gets Rhys to straighten up and start playing again. “You still haven’t shown me your voice.”

Rhys blushes. Jack wants him to _sing_? No, no way, that isn’t happening. No way in hell. Even if they paid him for it–!

“I heard that the dessert tonight is a piece of chocolate. How much for a song? Twenty percent?”

But _damn_ , Jack drives a hard bargain! “Fifty,” Rhys demands.

“All of it for three songs,” Jack winks at him and leans a little back, spreading his legs softly. Rhys thinks that this might be his pose any time he gets a rival company to agree to his terms. He knows he wins, and if they as much as think about arguing, he has the high ground, and he can lower their benefit.

“Deal,” Rhys squints and outstretches an arm. Jack shakes it a little gingerly, but he has a firm grip even with his left hand.

Rhys can be cunning too, so he chooses three songs with only a little singing. Jack is pleased anyway, but then the universe is against him.

“Excuse me, mister. I heard that you play for chocolate. Can I pick a song too?” an elderly man Rhys wouldn’t ever be able to say no to approaches him. “Do you know Flowers of Eden? It was my wife’s favourite.”

Of course, Jack is having fun. “You should to it, Rhysie. For the chocolate, or for the nice old gentleman.” The men nod encouragingly at each other, and Rhys budges.

It doesn’t stop with that man, of course. The rumour spreads, and soon there are dozens of people coming to the room to listen to him playing and singing, and to demand their own favourite songs.

Mercy supposedly comes in the form of August who reminds Jack and Rhys that it’s their turn in the dining room. But before they leave, Jack stops at the door and says loud enough for everybody to hear: “Don’t worry. The star will come back soon. Bring your chocolates if you want a song played.”

Rhys turns bright pink and punches Jack to the side, consequences be damned. The older man turns back to him grinning. “This was _mean_ ,” Rhys scolds him.

“Was it?” Jack rises an eyebrow. “You almost forgot to take your medicine; the nurse had to bring it here. I’m no doctor, but this seemed therapeutic. I’m encouraging good habits.”

“And it’s just a coincidence that you enjoy doing so that much, right?” Rhys scoffs, but soon he is smiling again. Jack is right – he hadn’t felt this good in a long time. But he doubts it’s because of the piano…

People actually bring him chocolates during dinner, and Jack has to help him carry all of it to their room before they get back to the music room where they receive even more. Rhys is glad that he is so good at ignoring people in this room, because the amount of chocolate he now possesses hints that there is a _big_ audience behind his back.

All the time, Jack sits by his side, occasionally joining him on the piano when he knows the song and rhythm, but mostly he just is. And Rhys wants just that. For Jack to be a part of his life.

He is released when the lights-out nears, his throat too sore to sing long ago. He plays the last melody, a simple lullaby, and says goodbye to everyone. For a while, his eyes seek August. Maybe an old habit. But he is not there; Jack is.

Rhys goes to the bathroom first. Jack looks like he has something important to tell him, hesitating in the door frame before all but ordering Rhys to stay awake and going for a quick scrub himself. When he is out, the younger man is fast asleep and drooling on his pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a sucker for characters being talented and liking music. I'm also a sucker for gentle!Jack. And most of all, I suck at dividing stories into chapters.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this one is shorter, but it has smut! ;) Tags had changed, guys. Mind them.
> 
> Also note that in the Characters part I only mention characters that will have a bigger role in that story. You won't only see those once. :)

The next morning is filled with secretive smiles and stolen glances. Rhys does get the time to wonder what has changed when Jack has a visit by his lawyers, so he is gone till lunch. But his wondering goes… well… judge for yourself.

Rhys isn’t bothering to pretend to be reading. He is sitting on his bed, propped up by a pillow, bright pink socks with rainbows in contrast with the basic white sheets on the bed. He gave up on trying to make sense of himself, indulging in daydreaming instead.

How would life be if a man like Jack fell in love with him, took him home, helped him to pull his shit together? How would it be having a family again? What if he finished his school, found a job, adopted a kid with his boyfriend? Would he be a good father? Wait, why is he taking it so far? Rhys would be happy just for having an occasional family dinner. Or ice-cream trips. Going out just to get ice-cream.

Every time the thoughts make him sad, Rhys reaches into his Vault (the drawer of his bed nightstand) for more chocolate. And that is the state in which Jack finds him: Rhys sitting on the bed, a lot of crumpled paper wrappings thrown around him. Pink socks hurting the CEO’s eyes and soul. There are chocolate smudges on his clothes, and a lot of chocolate around his mouth too, because the only way to unpack the annoying wrapping is with hand and mouth, so he got it all over himself every time until he gave up trying to clean it off.

To nobody’s surprise, Jack almost falls to the floor laughing, telling Rhys that this is the cutest thing he had ever seen, and he saw Wilhelm, his badass bodyguard, sitting by a tiny pink table having a tea party with little Angel. This takes the cake.

Rhys pouts and threatens Jack that he will not share a single piece of the sweets with him if he doesn’t stop laughing right now, but Jack just tells him that Rhys is so sweet that just being near him is giving him a toothache.

Rhys, to his and only his surprise, can’t eat more than a few bites of his lunch before he gets sick. Jack doesn’t stop teasing him for it for another hour, until he is left gaping when Rhys eats two more chocolates right after he deems it safe, the nausea not even completely gone yet. “You are worse than a teenage girl,” Jack shakes his head.

The rest of the day is like a blur. Rhys tells Jack a few nice stories about his sisters, and then Jack talks about Angel. They lay next to each other on Rhys’ bed, not touching, but close enough to feel warm. Again, Rhys doesn’t even realise that he should take the pills until he is reminded by a nurse. He almost feels like he doesn’t need it, but that’s not how it works, and missing pills would be stupid.

There is grilled cheese for dinner, and because August is not here to save him (he would usually make sure Rhys gets something different on these days, so he doesn’t have to fight the food with one hand), he receives it with a shy smile from the woman.

And then he gets to hear Handsome Jack _beg_. He basically begs Rhys to let him help him one more time, and when he agrees, he cuts the food for him.

“Mmm… I forgot how much I love this,” Rhys all but moans at the food he hasn’t had for years.

Jack makes a face and quickly tries to hide it, clearly disliking his cheese. “I miss my kitchen,” he sighs. “And my gym,” he looks down like his body was growing right before his eyes. “The cheese won’t go down without a fight, I feel it.”

Rhys grins so much he considers it a side-effect of molten cheese. Maybe, if Jack lets him have his portion, he might even put himself in a cheese coma…

* * *

Rhys put himself in a cheese coma. He grunts as he tries to roll over on the bed but fails. Jack is just coming out from the shower, and of course he sees it. “Well fed and bred?” he teases, and Rhys ignores the strange choice of words to make a counter-attack, reminding Jack that he is only one of those things.

“I can fix this.” Jack isn’t even a little thrown off by having his jab turned around. What an ass. Sexy ass.

 _Oh no,_ Rhys whines inwardly _. Brain, don’t do this to me._

To torment him even more (Is this a punishment for eating all that cheese and chocolate? Why is God so cruel?), Jack comes to sit next to him on the bed. “Are you gonna throw up?” he asks, a hint of doubt and hesitation in his voice.

“Never,” Rhys shakes his head. “My chocolate, my cheese.”

Jack laughs, and then his warm hands are on Rhys’ shoulders. He starts… massaging him. Slowly he kneads at Rhys’ shoulders, special care to the right one, because the muscles really need it. For some reason, Rhys is always tense there, even though it shouldn’t be possible. Or maybe it’s normal. Jack would know. He knows many things. Surely, he would look good in reading glasses…

 _Fuck_.

Rhys calls it the ultimate treason from his brain. As the muscles in his shoulders, neck, and now even back – oh God – relax, something else… stiffens, to say. He tries to will it away, but his mind runs in circles, coming back to the strong big fingers that he knows are rough every time Jack presses on a good spot.

So, Rhys has a semi-erection trapped between him and the mattress, and Jack’s ministrations have turned him into a mush. A very happy mush, but this is really not the right time.

Jack isn’t stopping. A bit of panic seeps into Rhys when he realises that Jack isn’t stopping at his back, he continues lower, skipping his butt and going to massage his calves. How long can the man go, for Christ’s sake? And no amount of pleased sounds from Rhys gives him the hint that he is happy now, Jack can stop.

Rhys considers another shower, only an hour after the last one, because this erection won’t go down. Jack’s hands are moving higher, now. Big warm palms at Rhys’ thighs.

Rhys’ hips move in the slightest to get a bit of relief down there. It sends a pleased shiver up his spine. Jack doesn’t pause, and so he does it again, hoping that Jack won’t see.

“I saw that, kitten,” Jack says behind him as if on cue. “Do you want me to stop?”

Rhys whines. He can’t talk his way out of this. Because even if he wanted to, the first thing that he would say when he opens his mouth would be: “Don’t you dare.”

Jack chuckles, confirming Rhys’ fear that he really did say it out loud. “As you wish, princess.”

Rhys almost considers it a victory, but at the same moment, Jack’s hands move higher, higher, higher, until he is casually groping his ass. And to his own shame, Rhys’ hips move back into the touch.

“You like that?” Jack asks, both teasing and caring.

“Mm-hm,” the mush that used to be Rhys makes a sound of confirmation. “More, please…”

There is a brief pause, one of the rare moments when Rhys stunned Jack, and then there is a breathy chuckle. One of the hands moves more centre and a finger is pressed through the fabric of Rhys’ pyjama to tease between his cheeks. “More?” Jack asks, another chance for Rhys to back off–

“Yes!” he breaths out way too eagerly. “Yes, plea—”

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence before he is turned around, pressed into the mattress by the entirety of Jack’s weight, and there are hot and surprisingly soft lips on his. He moans, the sound swallowed by Jack who takes the chance to lick into the younger one’s mouth.

“Fuck,” Jack breaths out as he comes up for air. He doesn’t bother to ask any more questions; the way Rhys thrusts up when Jack’s knee is forced between his, a clear hint. “Damn it, kitten.”

“Kiss me,” Rhys demands, earning another chuckle and another passionate kiss. It definitely pays off to demand from Jack. Maybe he could ask him to— “Oh, God!” Rhys moans when he feels Jack’s erection against his thigh. This must be an illusion. He’s never seen something so big for real. (It would explain the Big Dick Energy around Jack, though.)

“Something you want, cupcake?” Jack purrs straight to his ear, and Rhys moans again.

“Y-you,” he breaths out. “I want you.”

Jack delivers immediately, pressing kisses from his ear to his mouth and devouring him. Rhys finally gets the courage to wrap his fingers in Jack’s hair, pulling him closer lightly. He gets a gentle, encouraging nip on the lip in return, and a low growl that almost makes him go off.

Jack’s hands begin to move lower, sneaking under his sleepshirt, discovering his body. But…

“Jack, wait!” Rhys stops him reluctantly, and Jack pulls away so fast Rhys almost takes his words back immediately. “I just… I thought you didn’t want to break the rules…” he reminds, shifting under the CEO’s piercing gaze. “I don’t mind it, but you need to get out without another incident.” This almost hurts to say.

“You don’t mind?” Jack asks, his voice a little strained, eyes openly hungry, travelling down Rhys’ body. “I don’t mind too…” he leans closer, towering over the younger man. “Do you know what that means?” he asks, lips only inches away from Rhys’.

He doesn’t trust his voice, and so he only shakes his head. Jack grins. “That you will have to be quiet if you don’t want to cause us trouble. Think you can do that? No, scratch it,” he says a tiny little bit more serious. “Are you _comfortable_ doing that?”

Another moan escapes Rhys, and he bites his lip to stiffen it. Who knows if it was the mental image of what is to come if he agrees, or the mere fact that Jack _cares_ so much. “Yes,” he breaths out. “Yes, Jack, please.” He leans up to crush their mouths together again, and he makes sure Jack doesn’t pull back until they are both breathless.

“Fuck,” Jack pants, using his freedom to pull Rhys’ shirt off. His eyes linger on the tattoos for a long moment before he is leaning down, kissing his collar bones, and Rhys has to let go of Jack’s hair to bite his arm. He is beginning to doubt his abilities to be quiet.

Jack pulls his own clothes off at some point, Rhys almost too lost in pleasure to notice. Sure, one glance confirms that the CEO of Hyperion truly is sexy, but he has more important things filling his mind.

Right now, panic and embarrassment when Jack’s hand finally reaches his crotch. He can’t be imagining it; there is a small pause. Rhys isn’t the most developed man in the universe, and he knows what Jack must be thinking right now. _Cutest little dick_ , his partners always said.

But this is Jack, right? So, Rhys dares to swallow his embarrassment and growl: “Say it’s cute, and I’ll bite ya.”

Jack chuckles, coming up to kiss Rhys again. “Don’t threaten me with good times, kitten,” he purrs.

The mood eases, and soon they are making out again, now both naked. Jack’s hands seem to be everywhere, warm and firm on every inch of Rhys’ body, while his one hand is still stuck discovering his neck, his broad shoulders, his muscular back.

Jack waits a second when his finger reaches Rhys hole, giving him time to call it off, but Rhys nods, spreading his legs encouragingly. They say sex is a therapy, right?

“You are going to be the death of me,” Jack laughs.

“Sounds like a pretty death,” Rhys retorts. After another laugh, he adds in a low voice: “Say that I’m pretty. I don’t care if you lie, just lie and—”

Jack pulls back. _Fuck_. Fuck, fuck, fuck! “Wait, I—”

“No, Rhysie,” Jack shushes him gently with a finger on his mouth. “I just don’t want you to think that I’m lying. Look at me,” he gently brings his chin up. All the hunger and lust are gone from his face, replaced by something much softer. “You are _beautiful_. Stunningly beautiful. Your body, and your mind. What you’ve let me see of it anyway. I really liked all of you so far.”

Had Rhys not been so stupidly horny right now, he might cry. But now, he just nods. “Thank you.”

“You are more than welcome,” Jack chuckles. “Now, where were we…”

Barely one minute later, Jack is slowly pushing a saliva-slicked finger into Rhys who is biting his shoulder to muffle a moan. They seem even more desperate for each other this time, unable to part, pressing their bodies together. One finger becomes two, and it’s like Jack knows exactly how much Rhys can take as he carefully stretches him.

“Jack,” Rhys pants between silent moans, “you can hurry up a bit. I can take it— Oh, god, there!” He forgets whatever he was saying as Jack focuses his attention to that one sweet spot that makes his toes curl. “Fuck, I need you.”

Jack echoes his swearing with grunts, and finally, when he moves three fingers in and out comfortably, he pulls them out. He spits in his palm two times and covers his dick in the slick, and then crawls over Rhys to sit between his legs.

“Ready?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” There aren’t many words left in Rhys’ dictionary, so he makes sure he uses them often. He has to bite his forearm again to stifle the dirty moans when he feels Jack’s big cock stretching him. It’s so big, and there isn’t enough lube, but it feels good anyway. Like a wet dream come true.

Jack doesn’t push all the way in, setting an easy irregular rhythm, going deeper with each thrust, but slowly. It takes Rhys stupidly long to realise that Jack wants to make it easier for him, that he cares, that he wants him to feel good, and why does this make him almost come on the spot? It feels so right.

And then Jack starts talking again. He tells him that he is taking it so well, that he looks so good, and that he can’t wait to see him come undone. With his dirty promises and sweet words right in his ears, Rhys lets himself be taken apart. He wraps his legs around Jack’s hips, the rest of his body relaxing completely as his only worry is not to moan too loud, which Jack helps him with by pushing three fingers into his mouth. The younger man sucks at them graciously, too out of it to do anything else. Jack rewards him by angling his hips precisely so he hits his prostate on every thrust.

It’s too fucking much, and Rhys comes soon with choked grunts and moans, stifled by Jack’s fingers. Jack’s other hand is on his stomach, collecting a bit of Rhys’ sperm to lick it off his fingers, and just the sight makes Little Rhys twitch in excitement again, way too soon.

It’s only a couple of erratic thrusts later, and Jack pulls out in time to shoot his release on Rhys’ ass and stomach. He then lays next to the younger man, catching his breath, but never letting go of him, holding him close.

Rhys starts dozing off after his breath evens out, and Jack has to stir him awake to persuade him to go lay in his bed instead. Sleepily, Rhys notices that his sheets have been used to clean them off and are now soiled. _Meh_. He can be angry in the morning.

Jack holds him like Rhys was about to slip off, both arms wrapped around him, chin on the top of his head while Rhys buries his nose in the older man’s neck. He murmurs sweet calming words to him until he falls asleep, and maybe even after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think Rhys is acting like a virgin, you are not alone. Looking back, I'm not sure why I wrote it this way. Let's just leave it there, a very awkward sex. The other smut scenes in this fic are better. :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this two chapters merged into one? Yes. ... o_o

Knock, knock, knock. “Room 324, breakfast in thirty minutes.” Knock, knock, knock. “Room 325, breakfast…”

Rhys stretches, yawns, falls back to the bed. Another blissful morning without nightmares. Even his bed smells nice today, not soaked with his sweat. Smells like someone else, actually.

Carefully, Rhys opens one eye to be met with two beautiful, yet a little sleepy eyes of the most handsome man in the universe. “I woke up next to the most handsome man in the universe,” he mumbles, all of his barriers gone. “Cool…”

Jack tries to hold the laughter, but he soon erupts into chuckles. Rhys slaps a hand over the man’s face. “Shut up.”

In the next second he yelps, because Jack takes his fingers in his mouth and nibbles on them gently. “You… ass. Stop it,” says Rhys, but the morning wood says something else. “I’ll go and take a shower,” he decides.

Getting up is hard, however. His body is pleasantly sore in some places, and still a mush in others. All he wants to do is lay there and grin. But he feels Jack still watching him, and so he forces himself to sit up and walk to the bathroom on wobbly legs.

After a happy little jerk off and a refreshing shower, Rhys walks back into the room, still naked. He is a little suspicious when Jack doesn’t comment on that, and he is sure that the man fell asleep when there isn’t even the slightest change in his face when Rhys pulls on his boxers, leaning forward so the best of his ass is seen.

He contemplates waking Jack up when there are only five minutes left, but he is not that petty. So, when there are nine minutes left, he walks over to Jack and… stops.

Everything in Rhys is screaming at him to go for it, to kiss him, but… They had sex. That doesn’t mean he can kiss him, right? It was… just sex. Handsome Jack does not—

Rhys has slept with Handsome Jack, _ohmygod_.

And said man chooses that exact moment to wake up with a startle, looking around. When his eyes land on Rhys – who must look absurd right now, standing by his bed, looking like a kicked puppy – the younger man takes a few steps back.

“You should get ready,” he reminds silently, bowing his head and studying the floor.

Jack doesn’t say anything. Not even thanks as he gets up. But instead of going past Rhys to the bathroom, he goes and hugs the younger man. Rhys doesn’t pull away, can’t, and he hides his face in the crook of Jack’s neck when the tears start rolling down. He doesn’t even know why, and he feels stupid, but with Jack it feels safe to let it out.

“It’s alright, kitten,” Jack soothes, stroking his hair. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

Vehemently, Rhys shakes his head and hides his face even more. How can he tell Jack? He doesn’t even know himself. It’s just some stupid hormones, probably. And why is Jack still caring for him?

“I’m sorry, Rhys.”

All of the cogs in his head screech as they halt on spot. Rhys can’t even process that. What is Jack sorry for? Does he… Does he regret having sex with him? Was it _that_ bad? Or is he worried that Rhys will sue him, or cling to him? He pulls back to tell him that it’s alright, that he is alright with it being a one night thing, because he didn’t even expect anything else. Sure, he did imagine becoming a part of Jack’s family. But he also imagined having wings and flying – just as probable.

“I’m sorry that I… let myself be carried away yesterday,” Jack speaks before Rhys can even form words. His hands are gently cupping Rhys’ face, and there is raw remorse in his face. “It was stupid and selfish, right? I know that you aren’t ready. I understand if you… I was so afraid that you will wake up and regret what we had and try to hurt yourself that I couldn’t sleep, and I watched you the whole night. And you were so calm in your sleep. Almost happy. And now I thought that maybe you really will be alright, and I allow myself to fall asleep for a minute, and then I’m not here for you when you need me. I’m sorry.”

Maybe Rhys died and this is heaven. Can’t be nightmare, nor some crazy dream, because not even in the craziest of dreams could Rhys imagine the CEO of Hyperion talking to him like you would to a startled animal, trying to explain that he… cares. He really cares.

“I can’t, Jack,” he whimpers sadly. “This is… wrong. You can’t… I don’t have anybody. Why do you… Jack, why?” he sobs.

“Because—” Jack is surely about to say something nice, something right that makes the broken pieces of Rhys’ mind fall into the right places, but his head jerks up. “Someone is coming. I should get dressed.” He nudges the younger man towards the bed while he disappears into the bathroom. By the time Rhys has made the bed in a way that hides all the suspicious stains, August walks in, and the shower is running in the bathroom.

“Hey,” he greets Rhys, looking him up and down like he was looking for injuries. “You’ve been crying?”

Of course he knows. Rhys nods. “Yeah. Rough morning.”

Inevitably, the blonde man’s gaze turns towards the bathroom.

“It’s not Jack’s fault,” Rhys assures him quickly. “He actually helped me. That’s why we are late. I’m sorry. I just… Weak moment.”

“That’s alright, Rhys,” August walks over, nudges his chin up with his finger and smiles. “That’s why we are here for you.”

For a heart-breaking moment, it feels like months ago, when they were together. August knew what exactly to do with people like Rhys. With patients. But he didn’t know what to do with his boyfriend.

They both exchange a smile before August steps back again. “I’ll tell them that you will come with the next group because of an emergency. Fifteen minutes, ok?”

“Yeah, thank you, August,” Rhys smiles weakly and basks in the warmth of the returned full smile.

Jack steps out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. He casually lets it drop to the floor while he picks something to wear. Not in a provocative way, more like _I’m the only one on this floor of my mansion so I can be naked whenever I want._

No nasty surprise in the form of Vallory or Vasquez this time, only a few people recognising Rhys as the one who plays the piano and asking him to come to the music room again soon.

“Whoa, looks like I’m seeing a star,” Jack teases. “I guess your next performance won’t be as cheap as a chocolate.”

Rhys makes a thinking face. “Hmm… Tomorrows breakfast are pancakes, and they are actually good…”

“No,” Jack deadpans. “You are not touching my pancakes.”

“Pity… Guess I’ll tell the guards about that one guy who makes me uncomfortable, so they make sure that you don’t get in…” he pretends to pick at his nails, not bothering to give Jack a look.

“Fame is getting in your head,” Jack snorts. “Soon it will be all drugs, alcohol and lots of unprotected sex.”

Rhys turns to him, deadpans. “Are you trying to discourage me from it, or sell it? Sounds like the latter, honestly.”

They both keep the act for a little longer before they laugh. Rhys feels so much better than he did in the morning. Spending time with Jack like old friends has this effect on him, he decides. Feeling like someone actually enjoys being with him.

* * *

The next few days are a happy haze. There is cuddling on the bed, eating together, exchanging personal stories and memories, playing the piano and singing. There is silent hugging and wiping off tears, there is a big hand trying to hold a smaller one firm enough for it to stop trembling, there is shying away, blushing and apologies. There are feelings unsaid and misunderstood.

Rhys feels like Jack has always been there. Like he has always been a part of his life. Like he is the only thing left from his past, even though he is new, and knows very little about his past.

They didn’t kiss or do anything more since that day, except for the gentle kisses Jack pressed to his forehead. And that contributed to what happened on Saturday, too.

Jack was accepted into the psychiatric hospital on Monday. They... fucked on Wednesday. Jack was clear to leave on Sunday. And Saturday came so fast, Rhys didn’t have the time to prepare himself.

Would Jack forget him as soon as he is reunited with his family? Would he remember and be ashamed for having something with a long-term patient of an asylum? And what if he won’t?

What if Jack wants Rhys to be a part of his family? What if Rhys goes with him only to fail again and be disposed of in a matter of months?

What if these thoughts are the only thing between Rhys and being finally happy? What if he just needs to take the first step (again)? What if the pills work this time? What if it was really the last time the last time?

What if, what if, what if. All the what ifs are why Rhys is crying again, for the third time today, and it’s not even noon yet. He feels like shit, like before he started taking the pills, like after Elbie and Gortys, right before The Accident... What if he died there and then?

“Rhysie...” Jack’s voice is so soft. “Tell me, please. What’s going on? You’ve been all smiles for the past few days, with little exceptions, and you haven’t stopped crying for more than twenty minutes today.”

It’s getting harder to lie with every soothing word and touch. One or two more and Rhys breaks. For now, he can shake his head and claim that he doesn’t know.

Maybe Jack will get tired of this. Maybe he will leave, for the better.

“Do you want to come play the piano?” Jack offers.

Rhys can do this for him, he thinks. He nods and begins to get up, but the CEO holds him tighter, making it impossible to untangle himself from the hug. Rhys dares to look at him questioningly.

“That was a question, you know. So far, you’ve agreed to anything I’ve offered,” Jack notes in concern. “Do you really _want_ to go?”

Rhys nods again, forcing the fakest smile. _I don’t_ , he thinks. _But I don’t want to fail you._

“Tell me what’s wrong, baby,” Jack pleads, still not getting up.

 _“You shouldn’t get attached, if you know that he will leave soon,”_ Maya warned him. _“Making friends is good, but be careful. Losing someone close might put you a few steps back in your progress.”_ Well, he failed.

Maybe he is fuelled by the desire to belong somewhere. Maybe the feelings aren’t real. Maybe they will go away as soon as Jack is gone. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Talk to me...”

Now. Now he will lose his patience for sure. If Rhys doesn’t answer, Jack will get up and leave.

To go where? Rhys is the only interesting thing in this facility, he told him. He is stuck with him. But tomorrow...

Beyond sobbing, Rhys just whimpers as new tears soak Jack’s shirt, right over the older tear and snot stains.

Jack sighs, and the younger man breaks. “Please. Please, please, _please_. Don’t leave, Jack. Please,” he whimpers.

“I’m not going anywhere, Rhysie. I’m right here with you.” And the way Jack is petting his hair now almost lulls him to sleep.

But no peace for the haunted. “Tomorrow...”

Jack stills in his gentle touches, drawing a sharp breath. “I have to, baby. I have a company to lead, and a family. But you can…” Rhys almost doesn’t hear him over the pathetic sounds he is making. “We can keep seeing each other. You can come with me. I can make it happen.”

“I don’t have anywhere…"

“I can get you a place to live. Anywhere, just pick one, and it’s yours.”

But that’s not what he wants, right? He wants a very special place. One he can’t have, doesn’t deserve. He wants Jack, and a family, and for his stupid head to stop trying to kill him.

How easy it would be to just end things right now…

Life can be easy, and today it actually is, so Rhys is consumed by pleasant nothingness of restless sleep before more stupid thoughts can pull him towards the ever-present darkness. Jack doesn’t leave his side, making sure Rhys is not forced to leave the room for lunch. Instead, August brings them a pack of crackers and apples, all the while glaring daggers at the older man and melting in front of the younger.

August also sets up an emergency appointment with Maya for Rhys. For tomorrow morning, when Jack will be packing his things.

The behaviour of the hospital’s staff changes when someone who _was doing so good_ has a _weak moment_. Their faces are full of pity. They put extra effort into making them feel better. It’s because when a normally _normal_ patient is feeling bad, they feel like they aren’t doing their jobs right. When someone who is always sad is sad, there is nothing to be done about that. But _Rhys was doing so good_ , and there is no way they are letting him slip. _They are in this together_.

Together. All Rhys ever wanted. That’s why he didn’t mind spending over five years of his youth in a mental health facility. He _belongs_ to the asylum. And he wants to belong.

“Don’t think, Rhysie,” Jack whispers in the darkness as they are waiting for the sleep pills to work. “Let us help you. You might be in a bad place now, but we will help. Let us help. Talk to Maya. Call me. I will be there.”

He can’t keep his eyes open anymore, and Jack’s quiet voice is tempting him to sleep. He wants to believe, and he believes. Poor naïve Rhys, always so easy to believe.

“Do you want to know why I care, pumpkin?” Jack doesn’t expect an answer, he just speaks. “You’ve got potential. I saw it in you from the very beginning. You will heal, I know it. You just need a little help, and _that_ the world can give. You just need to ask. And you know how to ask, I saw that. From the very beginning plotting how to take my dessert, am I right?”

* * *

The sun burns his eyes, too dry after a full day of crying, and someone is shaking his shoulder. “Rhys… Rhys, buddy, get up. Time for your appointment.”

It’s not Jack. And what would Rhys give for a minute of cluelessness when he would think that he is in August’s bed and they are happy together. But he is in his own bed, and he immediately knows that it’s wrong.

“You don’t have a shift today,” he points out. More pitifully, he doesn’t wait for an explanation and just asks: “Where is Jack?”

“Discharging appointment with his doc. He didn’t wanna wake you up… I’m here– I was worried after yesterday.”

When Rhys opens his eyes, he sees the worry in the sky-blue ones. Worried for him. A security member whose heart is too big to be just a gorilla. For a while, Rhys smiles honestly.

The blonde man helps him get dressed, hair and teeth brushed, and accompanies him on his way to the office. But there is someone unexpected waiting by the door.

Awful shoes, old black jeans, tattered yellow sweater, white shirt, a waistcoat, black jacket, suspicious pocket watch and big sunglasses. This is the man who won the Hottest Man in The World title many times in row, the most powerful man on this planet, the CEO of Hyperion.

Goosebumps appear on Rhys’ body. Jack seems like a completely different man when not in sweatpants and plain t-shirts. When hidden behind the glasses.

“Nice to see you too, cupcake. Blondie.” Jack is… It feels like he was taken out of some of the commercials. Just different. A businessman.

But then he ( _almost_ politely) tells August to give them space, and he takes off the glasses, and his face is worried and gentle when he looks at Rhys. (He notices that his left eye, the one that was more damaged, seems a little brighter now. Contact lenses.) “Did you think I would leave without saying goodbye?”

Stupidly, Rhys nods. Jack snorts and Rhys blushes, realising how dumb that was.

“Well, news flash, dumdum. I wouldn’t do that to you. Can I get a partying hug?” he outstretches his arms.

Rhys is hesitant. “Will I see you again?” No matter how many times Jack told him, he needs to hear, wants to believe.

“Of course. Tomorrow at 9 AM sharp, visiting area.”

“Visits on Monday start at 10,” he reminds.

Jack snorts again. “Clearly, you are insane, cupcake. Otherwise you’d know who I am and that I make the rules.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and then his face falls a little. “Yeah, that was a really dumb joke.”

A giggle escapes Rhys, and he finally accepts the embrace. But before he can relax into the hug, Jack’s lips are at his ear. “I need something from you, though. Getting you out will be much easier if you are alright. So please, I need you to do one thing for me. Don’t be sad, don’t panic, don’t believe the ugly thoughts telling you that I am abandoning you. Remember: tomorrow, nine sharp. I will come back.”

Rhys nods, willing to promise anything, to believe anything. He believes.

“Good.” He can feel Jack smiling as he kisses his temple. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

Jack is gone before he blinks, and it’s almost like he had never been there, except for the warmth he left behind. Shaking it off, Rhys enters the office.

“Hi, Rhys,” Maya gets up from her desk to greet him, outstretching her left arm, never failing to do that.

“Hi, Maya,” he smiles back. “Sorry for…” he stops himself, going for a thanks instead. “Thank you for coming in on Sunday for me.”

“You are welcome,” she smiles. “Coffee?”

“Oh, you know what works for me,” he jokes. It will be a shitty no-caffeine thing, just brown water, but he will accept it anyway. A bit of normalcy. The different kind of normalcy, brought from the normal world.

“So, I’ve heard that you had a very bad day yesterday,” she begins as they both sit on a sofa and armchair, sipping their hot drinks.

“That’s right,” he nods. “Probably began the day on the wrong leg. Bad day, huh.”

“Those are the worst,” she says sympathetically. “But my usual bad day doesn’t involve hours of crying. Do you want to tell me what caused it?”

Rhys closes his eyes. Well, he can’t, really. Can’t tell her about Jack. “Not yet, I think.” Fortunately, Maya is the best therapist.

“Okay,” she doesn’t push it. “So, tell me instead – did you have any dark thoughts?”

What a question… “Yes, I did.”

“Did you think about killing yourself?” Always straightforward at the right moment.

 _Don’t tell her_ , a red bell goes off in Rhys’ head. _You need to be alright. Need to be healthy._ “No, not really, I think,” he pretends to be pondering over it. “I just felt, well, like shit.”

“I understand.” It’s hard to tell if she believes him. “So, there was nothing particular that upset you?”

He might even use this to his advantage, after all. “Well, maybe this one thing…” He waits for her to nod. “I was thinking… With Jack, we talked about the world outside a lot, and… I don’t know, it was… tempting? But I don’t know how to tell if I’m ready yet. I kept thinking about it and remembering… my sisters. I kept asking myself if I could do it…”

“And can you? Can you do it?”

“I… Maybe? I mean, I really want to. But I’m scared of failing ag-ain,” his breath catches in the right moment, “and that it might work this time.”

Maya’s face changes a little. “Are you afraid that you might succeed if you try to kill yourself again?”

What is the right answer? “Yes.”

“Rhys, this is good. This is very good,” she smiles encouragingly. “Now, tell me more about Jack. August said that he was there for you. Why would he do that?”

 _Hah, do I wish to know_ … “I think I remind him of someone in his… family and—”

“Say that again. That word.”

“Family.” Almost without a stutter. “He wanted to help. It was very nice. He said… that I have the potential to fully heal. That he can tell.”

“Well, I might not agree with Hyperion, but damn, he is right on this… Don’t tell anybody I brought up politics again,” she blushes a little.

Rhys grins. “Wouldn’t dream of it. As long as you don’t invite me to any cult.”

* * *

On the other side of the city, or rather outside of it, Handsome Jack returns home. Not everybody is there to greet him. Actually, almost nobody is, except for an army of paparazzi.

And Angel. His amazing daughter.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he immediately goes for a hug. Strange. He never does that. But he miss— need— _finds it appropriate_ today.

“Hi, Jack,” she returns the gesture gingerly. “So, what do you want to do first?” she asks as they walk through the large house. “Coffee? Hot shower? Tassiter prepared your bathroom this morning. Or you’d like a normal meal first? Or hire assassins on Lilith? Please don’t hire assassins on Lilith.”

“First,” he interrupts her, “I’ve got a very important job.”

“Which is…? Uncle Timothy took care of everything, if you are still worried about Hyperion.”

“No, not Hyperion,” he sighs, but he is grinning, a lot of excited, almost anxious energy trapped inside of him. “Right now, I have,” he glances at the nearest clock, “exactly twenty-one hours to figure out my… my feelings.”

The reaction he gets is more than expected, given that this teenager is his own daughter. “Excuse me, _what_?!”

“Oh, Angel. You’d be so proud of me,” he grins and leads her to the dining table, so they can sit. “I talked openly about my feelings.” More silently, not to ruin the effect, he adds: “Kind of.”

“Wish I’d get to experience that too sometimes…” she grumbles.

“Oh, shut it. You know I love you,” he rolls his eyes, completely ruining it, but the girl gapes at him anyway.

“Wow. Uncle Tim, is that you? Because, this sure as hell isn’t my father…” When Jack fails to give her any reaction other than an annoyed deadpan, she straightens out and asks: “Okay, you got me interested. What happened in the hospital, and what feelings are we talking about?”

“Well. I met this guy…”

“Okay, no, stop! Scratch it, I don’t– I don’t want to hear it. Nope, no, we are _not_ having this conversation.” She gives him an offended or disgusted look.

“Angel, sweetheart, how do you think you got into this world? You didn’t exactly spawn…” he teases, earning a throwing-up gesture. “So, if you are finished with this, I’ll continue. There is this guy who I met there, who makes me do and feel weird things, and—”

“Go for it.”

“Hey! I’m not finished,” he scowls.

“I don’t care, just go for it. You are acting weird in a way that almost makes you human. It might be good for you if you… Wait a minute. Where exactly did you two meet?” she looks at him critically. “Tell me that it wasn’t some weirdo that is just compatible to your weirdness…”

“It was a patient,” he admits reluctantly.

“Who was a patient?” comes from behind them.

“Oh, not you,” Jack closes his eyes, rubbing his temples. “Not now.”

“Jack’s fallen in love with his inmate,” Angel snitches on him immediately. “Do something, uncle.”

Jack knows exactly how his brother looks right now. “Shut up,” he says at the right moment, just as Tim is breathing in, hearing a clank of teeth in the next second. He knows him so well, his twin.

“Hey, we all can figure this out together,” Angel pats his shoulder reassuringly.

Together… Exactly what _He_ would want…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think Tim would say to Jack?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small note: Elpis, Pandora, Edens – countries; Helios – city

Rhys makes sure no-one sees him crying, hiding in his room and his books. The more he managed to deny the dark thoughts in front of Maya, the more prominent they are now. They would never let him out if they thought he is suicidal again.

And he is. The pills he is taking make it easy to ignore it, but he knows it is there. It’s in the dedication, the simple, offhanded decision to end things if Jack doesn’t come tomorrow. It’s in the way he looks around his room every few minutes for something to tie a knot to. The rooms are designed to hold no such places, but Rhys will think up something. Or there still are the stairs.

It’s not scary anymore. The first time he started casually contemplating killing himself, he got sick of himself quickly and went drinking with Vaughn. That was before The Accident.

Right now, it’s like one of the rare certainties in his life. He can be certain that he will break again, and that Jack is the perfect person to be the cause. And who knows, maybe he will finally succeed.

These states of mind are regularly interrupted by something maybe even worse. Hope. Good memories of the past week. Warmth that threatens to turn him into a happy mush. Telling himself to not put so much trust into someone he’d only known for a week is hard and leads to drops.

When night-time comes, Rhys is completely out of chocolate. Admirable feat, really. Vaughn would be proud. Or disgusted.

Rhys is on sleep pills again, helping him escape his mind for the oncoming hours. Some powerful stuff they gave him. If he managed to hide ten of these and then eat them at once, he might even...

Rhys wakes up drenched in sweat half a minute before there is knocking on the door. He takes a shower, goes to eat his breakfast. He is sick, and the mere thought of food makes him want to puke, but he knows that he needs to act normal. Either for them to let him out, or to let their guard down and let him finally finish the job.

Ten minutes before 9 AM, Rhys is in a state of mind when he just accepted that Jack will not come. Three minutes later, he is on his way to the visiting room. He is accompanied by a security member different than August, and he selfishly wishes the blonde man would be there for him.

He almost wants to scream at the guard to not open the door. He is oblivious to the two men clad in black that stand there, convinced that the room will be empty.

But the door is opened, and Rhys is met with two pairs of eyes. And another six men clad in black.

“Hello, pumpkin,” Jack grins at him.

He can’t walk. He is sure that if he looked down, he wouldn’t see legs but two trees, roots tying him to the spot. But then Jack’s face softens, and Rhys is smiling before he knows it, wobbling towards the table where Jack sits, a black-haired teenage girl next to him.

“Hi,” Rhys manages to say over his grin.

Jack smirks. He is in his work clothes again, but the glasses lay folded on the table. This is no businessman. This is a friend.

“How are you doing?” Jack asks, the concern loud and clear even to Rhys.

“Good. Great. Ready to—” he bites his tongue, unsure for a second, but Jack smiles. “Ready to leave this place. If the offer still stands.”

“Well, of course it does,” Jack chuckles. “I just thought that you should meet someone first. Rhys, this is Angel, my daughter. Angel, this is Rhys.”

Angel offers him her left hand to shake, and he already likes her. “Nice to meet you, Angel. Jack talked about you a lot.”

She rolls her eyes, but it’s a warm expression. “Yeah, he never shut up about you, too.”

Jack nudges her with his elbow, giving her a stern warning glare, but she seems unaffected.

“So, Rhysie,” Jack pulls his attention back to himself. “I’m very happy to hear that you still want to get out. You feelin’ good?”

Oh crap, how can he lie to Jack he will ruin everything— “Yes, good enough.” The lie comes out on its own, and it’s probably the most convincing one Rhys has ever said.

“Great.” Jack makes a gesture towards one of the bodyguards, a scary big man who would probably be able to snap Rhys in half, and the man leaves the room. “So, here is the plan,” Jack leans forward, a similar expression on his face to the one he had before talking to Vasquez. “It was Angel’s idea, by the way. A little trick to make your leaving this facility a little bit more legal.”

Rhys frowns, rightfully. _Little bit more legal_ doesn’t sound like _absolutely legal_. Then again, if Jack said _absolutely legal_ , it would be just as unconvincing.

“We looked up what conditions you must meet before leaving, and the main problem would be a place to live, a job or another stable way to earn money, and someone who would be in contact with you daily.”

“I’ve got none of that,” Rhys points out. “But I’ve got a feeling that you will have a powerful CEO speech now that will explain the miraculous way of solving all of this.”

Jack lets out an offended huff while Angel makes a squealing sound. “Oh my God, yes! He does that a lot, right? Tell me that I’m not the only one who sees it!”

Rhys can’t supress the smile as he nods. “It’s at least twenty percent of communicating with him.”

Jack clears his throat, interrupting their friendly exchange. “Yeah, I really don’t like how fast you two are allying against me.”

“Anyway,” he begins his speech. “Angel and I solved all of the problems easily. I will hire you. As a Hyperion employee, you can get a house. And I will see you daily.”

This would sound nice, _if_. Rhys’ smile falls, and so does his gaze, focusing on his hand in his lap. “Hire me? I… I haven’t finished school. There is nothing I really can do for Hyperion.”

“Not for Hyperion,” Jack says, making Rhys look up questioningly. “For me. I will list you as my personal assistant. It’s an easy job, and if you don’t want to do it, it will be easy to just pretend occasionally when the social services come check on you.” He lets it sink for a second. “With me so far?”

Rhys nods. “It sounds good.”

“Great! Now, your living. The big question…” As if on cue, Angel turns her head away. “Do you want to come live with us?”

Rhys closes his eyes. He hoped, hoped so much, and now it’s there. His breath is quickening, and if someone sees him panicking, they will have trouble having him discharged. He needs to answer fast. “Yes. Yes, please. Yes, I’d like to.”

Jack grins, and Rhys recognises the expression as one of victory. At the same moment, the big bodyguard walks back in, handing Jack a stack of papers. “Oh, great news! Thank you, Wil.”

The papers are pushed towards Rhys, and he peeks at them curiously. “Oh… That was fast,” he chuckles at the absurdity. Those are the forms he needs to sign before being discharged. He can leave tomorrow if he does.

“Well, can you imagine someone denying Wilhelm?” Jack laughs, and Rhys pales a little at that. He wonders if Vallory is alright. “Just kidding, dumdum,” Jack shakes his head. “We paid you out. Like from prison, but much less legally.”

Now, this isn’t much better, but at least no-one got hurt and August might get some pocket money from this if his mother is feeling generous. Win-win.

“So, I leave tomorrow and come live with you and your family, and work for you?”

“Yes, that’s pretty much what I said. See, you are smart,” Jack wiggles his eyebrows. “Like the plan?”

Does he like it? Sure. Is it too much? Fuck yes. Suddenly, Rhys vision is filled with colourful sparks, his hearing is overflown with static. And he feels light-headed.

“Jack, I think I’m gonna faint,” he says before crumbling to the floor.

* * *

Rhys wakes up on a moderately soft surface, surrounded by the smell of fresh sheets. The way the light comes through the window is too well-known to him by this point, and he recognises his room.

Too quickly he sits up and groans. His head spins and he is almost sent back into the pleasant world of unconsciousness. But that would be too easy, too nice. Instead, he is filled with dread. Why is he in his room? Where is Jack? Did he lose his chance by fainting?

The door opens, and someone swears. “Fuck, Rhys, are you okay?” August.

He shakes his head, unable to lie anymore. He ruined it. He screwed up for the last time. There are no more chances left for him in this world.

“Hey, buddy, what is that? Tell me those are happy tears,” August comes sit next to him, gently wiping his tears away. “You’ve got what you wanted, right?”

Rhys’ eyes snap open. What? Is this some sick joke? But August would never, and his piercing blue eyes look to the side on Rhys’ bedside table. The brunette looks there too.

The papers are there, along with a note and a photo. The note is signed HJ, and on the photo is Jack and Angel and… another Jack. Must be Timothy. It’s old, folded over and straightened, stained, like someone had it in the wallet for too long.

“Did you think they left you?” August asks carefully. When Rhys nods, he hugs him. “You’re stupid. He almost shot the medics because we wouldn’t let him in here.”

After a lot of imploring, August tells Rhys the whole story of how Jack slightly panicked, how he looked like a freaking god when he bossed the facility’s staff around, how he was set on fighting his way in, but one or two of his gorillas stopped him, and how Vallory completely swept the whole incident under the rug.

Rhys was out of it for less than an hour, but Jack had to leave, so he left him a note and the photo, and all but ordered for August to be called in so Rhys has someone he trusts by his side.

When the story was told, Rhys finally read the note. He admired Jack’s neat cursive handwriting for a little too long, but eventually, he got to the message. In short, Jack was sorry for leaving, but Hyperion needed him and there were big conferences planned for the media where he would talk about his hospitalization, and PR would chew his head off if he tried to dodge that.

Rhys was told to pack everything he wants to bring with him, and leave the rest behind, because they can buy anything he needs when he moves in. Two times in the short letter Jack reminds him to take deep breaths and stay calm. They will meet tomorrow afternoon when Jack picks him up. And everything will be perfect. Just hold on, Rhys.

With August’s moral support, Rhys carefully packs all his belongings. It’s not much. Mainly old t-shirts, sweatpants, colourful socks and underwear, one nice shirt and trousers for special occasions like job interviews that never came. None of the books he read were his, his old gaming console and collection of games is safe with Vaughn on the other side of the country, his important documents and a little box filled with memories are locked somewhere safe in the hospital and he will receive it upon dismissal.

Halfway through the day, Rhys is done packing. He eats the lunch, secretly imagining eating a meal made by Jack instead, and then he spends the rest of the day at the piano. The next day can’t come soon enough.

* * *

_**The stupidest time-skip in the incomplete history of time-skips.** _

* * *

Finally, the hour came when Rhys says goodbye to all the staff members who remembered his name and waves at the rest. His old travel bag is light on his shoulder, the old box with his documents, photos, diaries, and newly his pills (and god, there are so many of those!) are set on the floor next him as he waits.

Thankfully, Jack comes soon, only thirty minutes after calling the facility that he is on his way to pick Rhys up. He comes in a limousine.

Rhys closes his bad eye to make sure it’s not playing tricks on him. Does Jack always ride a limo, or is he showing off? Is Rhys even allowed to sit in that?

“Hey, princess,” the older man greets him. “Ready?”

“As much as I ever will be,” he says, his voice betraying that it’s not much.

“Good. Can I take that?” He picks up the box and helps Rhys into the car. The young man’s last glance at the facility is a curt one. A small smile at August, and then the door is closed.

The car is quiet, and there is just the two of them in the back. When the city around them gets boring – which is soon – Rhys turns to Jack. “I should thank you,” he points out. “But I guess there is not enough words for this.” Part of him is nervous that Jack will make a jab that they don’t need words, while the other parts hopes for it, because it would be the easiest way.

“Wanna bet that I know what you are thinking right now?” Jack gives him a knowing look. “Look, I wanted to talk about whatever formed between us later, when you are moved in, but we can do it now. There is still a long ride ahead.”

Rhys nods, hoping that Jack will do the speaking. Not only that he doesn’t want to be the one who says _we are not boyfriends_ , but he is also almost sure that… he doesn’t feel much towards Jack right now. He loves the security, the caring, the new chance at life he gave him. And Jack is hot. But… there aren’t any romantic feelings. What they did last Wednesday was a mistake fuelled by the heat of the moment, lust.

“First thing, I don’t want anything from you in return. Especially not anything physical, okay?”

Rhys nods and smiles. Jack is a good person.

“Second, the only thing I want from you is for you to not distance yourself from me, from us. Talk to me, or my brother, or Angel, whenever you need. I’m sure they will agree with me on this. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” Rhys answers. “Thank you, Jack.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo,” he smiles warmly. If this face was on the Hyperion advertisement, the company would probably drop sales, but its merch sales would triple. “And third,” Jack says and looks away for a while. “Us two. There doesn’t need to be anything, ever. I liked what happened last week and… I like you. But I’m not doing all of this for that. You will learn that my reasons are much more pathetic. But anyway, us two – don’t force anything. Just talk to me once in a while.”

That makes Rhys feel warm for some reason. “I enjoy talking to you a lot. Even though it’s mostly you talking,” he grins.

Jack huffs. “Bullshit. Nobody’s ever told me that. Nonsense, plain nonsense.”

A few minutes later, they arrive at the mansion. There is a crowd of people with cameras in front if the main gate, but the people are smart enough to move aside when the gate opens and the limousine drives in. Looking back, Rhys can’t even see the people in the distance when the car finally stops in front of the house.

He lets out a loud _whoa_ when he sees it. It’s usually hidden behind the walls, gates and trees, and not many pictures of the mansion exist. Rhys didn’t expect it to really be so big.

“Yep, whoa sums it up nicely,” Jack laughs next to him. “It’s better on the inside, though. Let’s go.”

They get out of the car, this time with Jack carrying all of Rhys’ things. Some unpleasantly looking man greets them at the door and opens it for them.

It’s definitely better on the inside. Just one look and Rhys knows that for sure. Wood floors, expensive-looking rugs, paintings, statues, bonsais, crystal chandeliers, and it’s only the hall.

As they step in, a woman with black hair and skin even darker than Jack’s comes to greet them. There is a playful smirk playing on her lips, and she is wearing a cowboy hat. At first, her eyes are fixated on Jack, her lips parted like she was about to tell him something, but then she notices Rhys, and it’s like she is staring right into his soul when their eyes meet. She opens her mouth and—

“ _No!_ Keep your mouth shut!” Jack shouts right next to Rhys way too fiercely, making the man jump and the woman chuckle. As she breaths in again, presumably to ask why, because she is looking at the CEO again, Jack growls. “I said no. No way. You are gonna make the same stupid joke as you always do when there is someone new, and I’m not dealing with the aftermath.”

Rhys frowns. Does Jack think he is such a psycho that he will not be able to handle a simple joke?

“This is Nisha, by the way,” he finally introduces them.

“Uh, hi. My name’s Rhys,” he offers an arm.

Nisha goes for the right at first, but quickly correct herself. “Well, hello,” she winks at him. “I’m forbidden to talk now, so we will have to get to know each other later. But I’m sure we will have a lot of fun.”

“Nisha…” Jack growls again warningly.

“Okay, okay, I’m going now,” she rises her arms defensively and leaves. Only then does Rhys notice that there is a real gun strapped to her thigh.

“That was my ex,” Jack says. And gun suddenly isn’t the biggest shock of the encounter, yaaay! “She likes to pretend that we are still dating and I’m cheating on her. Makes my guests really uncomfortable, can you imagine…”

Rhys nods, still unsure what to think.

“I hired her to train Angel in self-defence. I’ll talk to her about teaching you too, if you want. But that can wait. Now – your room.”

Jack leads Rhys through the house. They go up the stairs three times. During the climb, Jack points out to random doors on random floors, naming who sleeps there. Angel’s room is on the second floor, everybody else’s on the first. Jack’s room is an attic room Rhys only catches a little glimpse of. Then he is nudged towards what is to be his room, one of the only two on this floor.

“When Angel was a baby, we had her crib in here, so she would be close. It got turned into a guest room later when she got a bigger one. Now, it’s yours.”

“How many bedrooms exactly does this house have?” Rhys wonders.

Jack chuckles. “Will the number impress you? Should I add a couple to it?”

“I think I will still be impressed even if you say less than there really is,” Rhys laughs. “But really, I’m curious. How many?”

“Eighteen. Most of them have a bathroom. Some have lounging areas or other bonus stuff.”

“Whoa.”

“Yeah, whoa,” Jack chuckles. “Anyway, make yourself comfortable, take a shower if you need to, then come to the dining room to meet the rest of the crew.” Jack is already leaving when he finishes speaking, and Rhys has to call him back.

“Where is the dining room?” he asks, glad that he even remembered to.

“Oh, right. Main staircase, then left, follow the red carpet, stop when there are ten curious eyes on you.”

* * *

Unpacking his bag is easy. The two stacks of his clothes look funny in the huge wardrobe he has. The box goes straight under the bed to be forgotten (forever, preferably). Rhys had a shower in the morning, but when he carries his toothbrush into the bathroom, he considers having another. Or ten. Or a bath. Because whoa, this bathroom is like a SPA dream.

A bathtub that would comfortably hold two people, a shower in which he could hold a small party, lots of shiny surfaces and mirrors, and a fish tank. A fish tank full of small colourful fish in his bathroom. Talk about kitsch, yeah, but Rhys is impressed. He is also curious about Jack’s room and bathroom, because Rhys can’t imagine anything more impressive than what he has.

After making himself look human in front of the various mirrors, carefully brushing his hair back, he heads to find the dining room. Getting back to the main staircase is easy, as it’s the only one that goes all the way up to this floor, and the red carpet that should lead him to his destination is the same one that got his attention earlier, so he doesn’t even get lost. The carpet is very soft under his feet. He didn’t take his slippers, having had enough of slippers for the rest of his life in the hospital, and so it’s only his yellow socks with butterflies.

“We’ve got guests,” is the first thing he hears, and the conversation in the room that he didn’t even hear dies off. That makes him feel really weird.

“Uh, hello,” he smiles nervously. Ten curious eyes stare at him indeed. “I’m Rhys,” he speaks, trying to break the silence. The only sound is someone, probably Jack, working in the kitchen in the next room.

Angel takes pity in him and introduces the rest of the room. “Rhys, this is Axton, the chief of my security team.” A man that stood by her side when she and Jack visited Rhys nods, acknowledging him, but does nothing else. “Wilhelm is my father’s chief guard.” The scary big man that took care of Rhys' discharging doesn’t even acknowledge him. “I heard that you already know Nisha…” Angel continues. Said woman smiles at Rhys, still looking like she sees right through him. “And this is uncle Timothy, dad’s twin brother.”

Timothy has had his back towards Rhys the whole time, and he turns in his seat to reveal that him and Jack are indeed almost identical. “Hi,” he smiles, the expression warm, friendly, and completely different to any of Jack’s smiles. “Jack might have told you about me. Sorry if you thought that I’m, like, fifteen from the stories.”

Yes, Jack has called him his baby brother multiple times, and honestly, Rhys expected Timothy to be younger. But he got an exact copy of the man who turned his world upside down. He hopes that the twin won’t somehow make things even more crazy.

“Nice to meet you all,” Rhys says when the silence stretches.

“Will you keep standing there?” Nisha gives him the same raised eyebrow he knows from Jack.

Rhys fidgets for a little, and it’s enough for Timothy to sigh. “That was her way of inviting you to join us. Take a seat,” he gestures towards one of the empty chair. There are maybe twenty seats, the table is huge. Maybe Jack is used to having a lot of people around himself. Or he needs to have everything big in his house.

Rhys sits between Angel and Timothy, the two being the friendliest and least scary. The twin offers him a hand to shake, the right one, but somehow, Rhys doesn’t mind this time. Maybe it’s the way Timothy is completely oblivious to why it’s wrong, just as Jack was. Only when Angel clears her throat and gives him a look does he understand. He blushes and outstretches the other arm.

“So, Rhys, tell us something about yourself,” Tim nudges him, smiling reassuringly.

“There is not much interesting about me,” Rhys shrugs. “I wanted to study robotics, but I barely started collage before… Uhm.” _Yeah, what a nice way to start your sob story, genius!_

“What school did you study?” Angel asks.

It makes Rhys snort a laugh even if it stopped being funny long ago. “The only one in Pandora. Not many to choose from.”

When the whole room— no, the whole _house_ goes silent, even the clanking in the kitchen, Rhys realises something about Hyperion he learned to ignore as soon as he left the country of his origin. This is awkward.

“You are from Pandora?” Jack asks, coming from the kitchen to look at him.

“I mean, yes? Kind of,” Rhys fidgets. “I’m an orphan found on the streets. I was adopted pretty quickly. After me, the family also adopted Sasha and Fiona, my sisters, and we lived happily until our parents’ marriage broke and we were put into a sort of foster home, children’s home. All of that pretty far from the war zone. We weren’t raised terrorists or something,” he laughs nervously.

“Nobody’s saying that,” Jack shuts the train of thoughts immediately. “How did you get all the way to Elpis, though? And Helios, of all places?”

_Don’t think about The Accident. Don’t think about The Accident. Don’t think–_

“Answer the question, kid,” Wilhelm growls. He clearly doesn’t share Jack’s view of this.

“Shut it, Wil,” both Jack and Tim snap at him. Tim then gently places a hand on Rhys’ shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Rhys nods and takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Sorry. No need to panic. It’s simple, really.” He shakes his head, chasing all the thoughts away, focusing on simple facts. “I was born in Elpis. My birth certificate was the only thing I had when they found me. And so, when I got hurt,” he gestures towards his shoulder, “and there was not a single hospital in Pandora that could help me, they sent me to Elpis. And because there are no mental health facilities, and I was ordered to stay in one, they searched for one that would take a random kid from Pandora, and that was the Helios St Angel. The St Angel Mental Health Fund funded my stay.”

Angel smiles at that, and so does Jack, in the soft way he saves for family. “Hyperion’s St Angel Fund?” he asks.

“Oh.” Rhys’ mouth hangs open as pieces fall together in his head. He can’t even laugh at the way Tim mutters _show-off_ and Jack hits him in the head from behind. “I mean, thanks,” he manages eventually.

Jack snorts. “You’re welcome. ‘S not like I did anything, just started the fund. Buuuuut I won’t mind taking the credit.”

“Dinner’s burning,” Angel notes, and Jack swears, running off to save it. “So, robotics, huh? What else do you like?”

This is the awkward part when he says books and music, and they all focus on music, and it will be awkward because freakin’ one arm. He braces himself. “I read a lot and—”

“Oh, Tim’s gotten himself a victim,” Nisha laughs. “Poor you, boy.”

“Hey!” Tim snaps. “I never forced anybody to read my books.”

“You write?”

“Uhm, yeah,” Tim shrugs. “Little stupid stories.”

Rhys smiles at him. “I bet they are good. What are they about?”

Tim and Rhys make conversation, and the rest of the table either join to make jabs at the twin, or they talk about their own work stuff.

Then, the dinner is served. It’s mac-n-cheese, and it looks delicious. And it can be eaten with a spoon, which Rhys is incredibly thankful for.

Jack sits next to Angel and talks to her about school for a while. Rhys doesn’t want to listen, and the delicious, sinful food full of cheese makes it difficult to think about anything else anyway, but he hears a few words and figures out that Angel actually doesn’t leave this house to go to school. Instead, she has private teachers.

His attention is pulled towards the conversation when he hears his name.

“Do you think Rhys could join my lessons with Scooter? I bet he would love to teach him.”

Jack chuckles. “Yeah, I wanted to bring this up with you two later, but seeing that you’ve got the same idea, I believe you won’t mind sharing a teacher. So, it’s up to Rhys. What do you think, pumpkin?” he turns to the younger man. “Do you want to finish your school?”

Rhys’ mouth falls open again. Yes, of course he does. He wants to be useful, and he needs a school to accomplish that. But he didn’t expect to be offered a private teacher. He was ready to try distance learning when he is healthier… Well, maybe he should begin straight away and not wait for such a miracle, right?

“Yes, I would love to,” he agrees. “Thank you.” There are tears forcing their way in his eyes, and he forces them away, because he can’t cry now. He will finish school and be useful. Jack is giving him everything he ever wished for.

They all go their separate ways when the dinner is eaten. Rhys is told to leave everything on the table, that Tassiter will come clean it up. Jack disappears somewhere, so Rhys decides to go into his room. On his way up the stairs he notices Tim trying to be inconspicuous while going into Wilhelm’s room instead of his own.

In his room, Rhys sits on his bed, only now learning how incredibly comfortable it is. He is sure that he will fall asleep soon if he remains on the bed, and so he changes into his pyjamas. Dully, he notes that his old baby blue pyjama pants and a shirt with little robots is not only extremely childish, but also worn, washed-out and faded. He looks so out place in it that he is hesitant about climbing into bed.

“You should take your tablet before going to bed,” Jack speaks up suddenly behind him, successfully making him jump. “Or did you forget again?”

Yes, Rhys did. He would have forgotten the ones before dinner too, if he hadn’t taken them right before leaving the hospital. And he only takes this one twice a week, so it’s even easier to forget. “Yeah, I guess I did. Where—?” Jack took all of his medicine away the minute he stepped into the car, encouraged by August, and Rhys had no idea how will he able to take it if Jack stays late at work sometimes, but he is sure the CEO has it all figured out.

“Here, I brought it,” he hands him the simple vitamin pill.

Rhys goes to the bathroom to swallow it and drink some water from the faucet to help it go down, and he is glad that Jack doesn’t follow him to supervise the process. It’s just vitamins or some similar crap.

Jack is still in his room when he comes back, and suddenly, Rhys realises something. Jack gave him everything he ever wanted, and Rhys barely spoke to him in the past two days. No point saying thank you again. He needs to actually _do_ something to show his gratitude.

He scratches the back of his neck, for a second avoiding Jack’s eyes. Then, he does something.


	6. Chapter 6

“I guess you deserve to know the full truth, now that I live in your house,” he says.

Jack raises his eyebrows. “Truth about what?”

“My tragic past,” Rhys chuckles joylessly. “I want you to tell you, if you want to know.”

Jack frowns. “I do, of course I do. You being from Pandora raised my curiosity beyond belief. But I don’t want you to force yourself into this.”

“It’s alright, I want to tell you,” Rhys assures the CEO. “Can we sit somewhere, though? It’s a— It’s a long story.”

Jack seems to think about it, and then he beckons Rhys towards the bed. They sit next to each other, Rhys with knees pulled tight to his chest, Jack casually leaning against the headboard, legs spread, subconsciously aggressively dominating the space. It makes Rhys chuckle.

“This all started,” Rhys begins, “after our parents just put us away. Me and my sisters were placed in this foster home thing where we… They taught us to steal and make money the less legal way. It sounds bad and dangerous, but we were lucky. I was still allowed to go to school, we had some friends... We thought we can make it work. We would go out with our friends, Sasha and Fiona knew they can count on me if they get into trouble, I was on my way to the better future.

“Then Gortys… She committed suicide.” He closes his eyes for a second. Here is where the tragedy begins. “We— I— She was always so happy! She was the best person out of us. She would go to hell and back to make someone smile, she was smart, just— She was the best person we knew. And she killed herself.”

He sighs, keeping his eyes closed. It’s like he can see the big mean cloud that covered the sun that day right in front of him. “Then, it was Elbie. We all knew that he loved her, but he kept waiting for the right moment. He killed himself a week later. And meeting our friends was never the same. We kept… having dark thoughts, I guess. All of us. Who is next? What is right? Should it have been me?

“I was the next to go. Well, I was meant to be, but it didn’t really work out,” he chuckles dryly. “I was driving at night, in the cliffs on the borders with Elpis. The Pandoran side, so not many railings or safety precautions. I was paying attention to the road, thinking I must drive careful, or I might fall down and die. And suddenly, it seemed like the best idea in the world. On one sharp turn I just kept the wheel steady and pressed the pedal all the way down, drove straight off the road and into the chasm.

“That’s how I got to an Elpis hospital. A therapist who was hired to help me come to terms with my new disability,” he shrugs his right shoulder, “got me to confess that it was a planned move, and I was sent to a psychiatric hospital. I guess I could have gone back the first time I was released, but I think that we are all safer if we are separated. When there is nothing connecting us to our past. I don’t want my sisters to think about death any time they look at me.”

Silence spreads in the room, and Rhys hides his face behind his knees. He feels cold, exposed. But he did the right thing; Jack deserves to know. He hopes the man won’t judge him now for his choices. Even though he has the right to.

“Thank you for telling me, Rhys,” Jack speaks, eventually. “Can I do something for you now?”

“Change of topic?” Rhys suggests.

“I don’t—”

“What’s in Wilhelm’s room?” Rhys asks, taking lead. “I mean, I saw your brother basically sneak there. Is there a chocolate stash or something?” He shouldn’t do this, it’s rude, but he needs to focus on something lighter.

“Wilhelm is in Wilhelm’s room,” Jack answers simply.

“Oh? Oh. Ooooh…” Rhys laughs when he realises what Jack is implying. “What’s between Timothy and Wilhelm?” he asks, only to regret it a second later.

“Right now?” Jack smirks. “Probably not even an inch of air or clothing. They keep pretending that nobody knows, but it’s so obvious they fuck, even with the soundproof walls.” Jack makes a sound, a vocal equivalent of rolling his eyes if there is one. “I guess I should thank my young self that I had the walls soundproofed when I had this place built. I knew I don’t want to know what happens behind the closed doors when my kids or my baby brother start bringing their partners over.”

Rhys giggles, imagining Jack’s scandalised face. “So, did you always know that your brother, uhm, prefers men?” he asks curiously. Rhys couldn’t tell anybody in Pandora without being judged, not even his parents.

“I mean, it’s so obvious,” Jack snorts. Rhys nods, because honestly, it is. Even at the dinner, Rhys was almost sure that Tim is gay, like him. “He kept stealing one of my super-hero dolls and stripping it of its hero suit to stare at the fake plastic muscles.”

“Oh, did I deserve a new load of your brother’s embarrassing stories?” Rhys asks, feigning excitement obnoxiously.

“Oh yeah,” Jack laughs. “There was the one time when…”

* * *

Rhys wakes up laying comfortably on the softest bed he has ever been on. He doesn’t remember crawling under the blankets, but he has an idea how he got there.

Looking at the clock on his bedside table, he notices that it’s about the time when he usually got up in the asylum. He goes to take a shower, brush his teeth, put his hair into shape, and when he is dressed and ready, he carefully descends on the ground floor.

There are people in the kitchen, and he feels a little awkward interrupting, but he needs to find Jack, if only because of the medicine he should be taking soon. Fortunately, it’s Angel in the kitchen, along with some extremely unpleasant looking man.

“Uh, hi, good morning,” Rhys greets them, subconsciously pulling at the hem of his t-shirt. “Have you seen Jack?”

The man gives him one judging look, and then he answers. “Mr Lawrence left earlier and is now in his office. The private chef will, however, be here soon.”

Rhys grins inwardly. _Knew Jack would have a private chef!_

“Come on, sit,” Angel encourages him, patting the bar chair next to her. “Scooter will be here in two hours. Do you feel like joining the lesson today?”

“Yeah, that would be nice,” he smiles at her. He isn’t so sure on the inside, but he knows that he won’t be much more confident tomorrow, so why prolong it?

Angel tells the man to prepare the study room, and he leaves. “This is Tassiter, by the way,” she explains. “Now, don’t get creeped out, but Jack took his position as the Hyperion CEO and hired him to take care of his house. Clean his toilets, etc. My father can be a walking cliché sometimes.”

“That… is creepy,” he admits. They both laugh awkwardly, and then the chef arrives. Or does he?

The man that walks into the room looks more like a war veteran than a chef. He smells of alcohol and cigarettes, and there are small feathers on one of his shoulders. Literally. There are feathers, from some bird.

“Hi, Mordecai,” Angel greets him. Rhys forgets the name immediately, and so he just smiles awkwardly.

“Mornin’,” the man retorts. There is no _Miss Lawrence_ in his voice or face. He doesn’t look professional at all, and first thing that came to Rhys’ mind was a movie where a secret agent pretended to be a maid and was really bad at it. If this was the case, the agent was unbelievably bad at it.

“What do you want, Rhys?” Angel asks him.

“Uhm, I– Anything? Really, anything.” He is not used to picking his food anymore. Every day, something is served, and he eats it.

“Come on, say what you like, or Mordecai makes his _special_ for you, and only Jack can eat that. Ugh,” she shudders.

“Hey! My special is amazing!” the man points a wooden spatula at her threateningly.

Angel leans towards Rhys, whispering: “It’s pancakes dipped in whiskey, with fruit dipped in rum, and with coffee with bourbon.”

“Anyone can survive this?” Rhys asks, laughing. “You are just pulling my leg, aren’t you?”

Angel snorts the same way her father does. (They are both teenagers, really.) “Just ask Jack. He has it every time he has to deal with Accounting.”

Rhys chuckles. Sounds about right. “Okay, I think… I really like pancakes. Can we have that? With something milder, please?”

“Sure,” Angel laughs.

* * *

Scooter is… not what Rhys expected, honestly. Although, after meeting Mordecai, the chef, Scooter seems more believable. Still, he doubts this guy has any kind of a license, for teaching or repairing cars, or whatever he does.

The lesson lasts five hours. Angel is focused all the time. While Rhys and the other man eat their lunches calmly, she keeps working out some calculation.

What bothers Rhys the most is that he doesn’t understand anything the two say when they talk. He is completely lost. He expected to be able to understand at least something, but nope. White noise.

He suffers through the lesson. In the last five minutes, Scooter seems to remember that Rhys is there too, but their conversation ends after the technician asks Rhys what he knows about fusion, and he says not that much.

He escapes Angel’s attempts to make him feel better, because it honestly only makes everything worse. He walks around the house, peeking into rooms that don’t seem forbidden or taken. A home library gives him a little hope, and he decides to hide there, among books, something familiar.

It’s Angel who delivers him his medicine every few hours, and although she is cool about it, Rhys just feels awkward. Even August would leave the pills for the day out for him to take on his own if he was at work. Having his friend’s daughter taking care of him like this feels terribly wrong.

Not to even speak about the fact that he fucked her dad. He really tries to not think about that.

Jack is a friend right now, right? Just a very good and very random friend. No feelings included, no strings attached. Just a peaceful home Rhys somehow got himself into.

“Oh shit!” he drops the book and runs out of the room, heart almost shooting out of his chest. Because right at that moment, thinking about friends, homes, families, Rhys remembered something he swore to never forget. The one part of his past he didn’t abandon.

“Angel!” he calls, running to the study where he last saw her, but she isn’t there. Maybe her room? He turned on his heels but ran straight into someone.

“Oh, wow, are you okay?” Tim asked, carefully steadying Rhys. “I heard you running…”

“I need to borrow a comm,” Rhys blurts out, trying to control his breathing. “I need to… I forgot about something important, and I really need to make a call.”

Tim chuckles. “You sound like Jack, you know? Here, use mine,” he hands him a phone that hardly even resembles the device Rhys used to own five years ago. Sure, he’s seen the hospital staff’s phones, but those were usually outdated. What Tim offered looked like it was brand new, the best on the market, maybe not even released yet, knowing Jack.

“I…” Rhys contemplates turning the offer down, because this thing looks expensive, and he might break it, but he really should call Vaughn. He promised he would tell him as soon as he is released again. “Thank you,” he says. “It might— It might take a few minutes.”

“Don’t worry,” the twin smiles at him. “Just bring it to my room when you are finished.”

He is left alone, but he doesn’t take the time to appreciate that, dialling the number he’s learned by heart long ago before he even hears Timothy reach the stairs. Holding a flat phone to his ear feels unfamiliar, especially given how thin the thing is, but he can imagine getting used to that.

He hears the familiar tone that fortunately never changes and waits. One beep, two…

Vaughn doesn’t pick up even though Rhys calls again and again. His phone is not turned off, he just… ignores it? Vaughn is not one to ignore strange calls, though. Could something happen to him? But he has Yvette, he should be safe.

Shoulders slouched and face blank, Rhys slowly walks to Timothy’s room. He knocks, almost missing the inviting voice when the owner of said room answers. He steps in, not really thinking, not even trying to not look pathetic. Has he been abandoned?

“Hey, everything alright?” Tim asks with a concerned frown. “I get that the call didn’t go well…”

Rhys shakes his head. “He didn’t pick up.” He hands the phone over and turns around to leave.

Tim clears his throat, stopping him. “I mean... Do you want to stay here for a while? I would show you some of my stories…” He sounds nervous, lacking Jack’s confidence. He is the gentler of the two, no doubt.

Rhys nods before he even thinks about it. His subconscious probably just liked the idea of not being alone and took over. He sat on the chair next to Tim, by his desk, distinctly wondering why does the man have two chairs at his desk at all times.

“So, this is what I’m most proud of,” Tim pushes a soft green book with childish pictures towards Rhys. “It’s children’s stories. It’s the ones mom used to tell us before she left me and Jack. He hates it, but he paid the publication fees, and I think he has one in his room,” the twin chuckles.

Rhys smiles a little. “Do you have any embarrassing stories about Jack?” He can’t exactly say that it would be fair, and so he chooses a way around. “I bet he was an awful kid that always got what he wanted. Did he throw tantrums?”

Tim laughs. “No, thank God, no. He did always get what he wanted, though. From our father, at least. When he died, mom changed. She put us away, and we... Life became very hard for us two, then. But that never stopped Jack from getting what he wanted. He just took it.”

“I bet he’s done a lot of things just so you were safe,” Rhys daydreams aloud. Just like he would, taking beatings for his sisters, stealing for them...

“Oh yes, he did,” Tim agrees, also looking a little dreamy. “He is only a few minutes older, but he acts like I was a baby, taking care of me all the time. He saved my life, too, when ol' grams decided that I should literally burn in hell for being, you know, homosexual. He stole her car, drove me away. The next—” he stops abruptly. “I think I should end the story here.” He looks away for a while, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

Rhys decides to change the topic, and they get back to Timothy’s stories. They must have been talking for long. The next thing Rhys knows, there is Wilhelm standing in the doorframe, looking a little awkward as he apologizes for interrupting.

“Jack is home, boy,” he informs him.

“Yeah, thanks.” It feels terribly awkward. Why should Rhys care about Jack? But then again, Wilhelm just probably wants to have Tim for himself for a while, after coming back from work. “I’ll go now,” the brunette leaves quickly.

“Oh, there you are,” Jack grins at him, meeting him in the hallway. “Angel told me that you were with Tim.”

Rhys smiles, trying to come up with something nice to say to welcome Jack home, but today’s events come crushing at him. How stupid and uneducated he is, how he couldn’t call his friend, how he used Timothy to learn something about Jack instead of just asking the man himself. He is such a—

“Pumpkin? What’s in your head right now?” Jack asks, carefully taking the younger man's chin and tilting his head up. “Tell me.”

That was a command. Jack is still in his work clothes, there are sunglasses on his face, he is a little tense. Will he lose his patience with Rhys?

“I don’t know,” the younger shrugs. “It’s just a hard day, I guess.”

“Hmm,” Jack makes a thinking sound. “How about you go take your medicine, we order pizza for dinner, and while we wait, you can tell me about it?”

“Sounds good.” Too good.

“Great! I’ll have Tassiter take everyone’s orders. What pizza do you like? Say Hawaii, and I’m throwing you out, though,” Jack rambles a little.

Rhys squints. He says it loud and clear. “Hawaii.”

Jack makes and offended sound, and then he suddenly wraps his arms around Rhys’ waist, bends his knees a little and picks him up, effortlessly tossing the lanky man over his shoulder. “Now, I’m tossing you out. Definitely.” He runs to the stairs and carries him down towards the front door.

When Rhys stops squealing and laughing, he chokes out: “Jack! Put me down! I was just kidding! It’s Margherita!”

Jack puts him down but takes hold of both his shoulders firmly. “I don’t know if I can believe you. Tell me to my face — look into my eyes and tell me, where does a pineapple belong?” his voice is playfully threatening. (Rhys might be making the bit about playfulness up. It’s actually really threatening.)

“It’s only good as a decoration, or in the trash. Not even for drinks!” he can’t stop giggling through his speech.

“Hmm, I’ll let you go, this time, but I’ll be watching you. If your gaze ever falls on Nisha’s Hawaii, you are out!” he makes the _I’m watching you_ gesture and heads to the kitchen.

“Why can she have pineapple on her pizza?” Rhys asks curiously.

Jack stops dead in his tracks, and for a while Rhys is worried he said something wrong. Jack looks serious as he turns to him full-body. “You try and tell her it’s disgusting. I’ll call you an ambulance, if there is anything left of you.”

Rhys blinks, and then they both laugh.

“I’m serious, though,” Jack notes as he gives Rhys a glass of water and multiple pills.

“So, how was your day?” Jack asks then.

Rhys frowns. He doesn’t want to talk about it yet. “You first. How was _your_ day?”

Jack sighs, the tension in his muscles coming back. “Terrible, but boring. You don’t want to hear that. Had to deal with lots of idiots. Really infuriating idiots. I wish I could just—”

For once, Rhys knows what to do, and he smiles a little to himself as he comes to hug Jack from behind, sneaking his arm under Jack’s, resting it in the middle of his chest. Rhys’ chin comes to rest on the older man’s shoulder, and they are pressed so close that he can feel him relaxing in real time.

“Thanks, kiddo,” Jack hums, leaning into the hug. “Damn, you are good at this.”

Rhys smiles more. The awesome feeling of being useful fills his head, floods his senses, so he doesn’t notice at first that they are moving.

“Where are we going?” he asks curiously, letting Jack to lead him.

“To my room,” Jack answers, voice so soft Rhys thinks for a while that this might be Tim. It’s like Jack feels... exposed just talking about it.

They walk up the stairs in silence, and Jack stops in front of the closed door. “I...” he begins but trails off. “I haven’t allowed anyone in for a long time. Tassiter is only allowed to walk through when he cleans the bathroom. I don’t... Do you want to see it? My room?”

Rhys honestly isn’t sure what this is about, but it seems intimate in the good, familiar sort of way, and he nods. Jack wants to show him another piece of himself, and he will be there for him.

Without another word, maybe fearing of stalling, Jack opens the door.

First thing that Rhys notices is actually the mess. Not a complete mess, but pieces of clothing laying here and there, used towels, the curtains only slightly parted. But with every second he notices more weird things about the room. He hesitantly steps in and looks around.

The room seems to be centred around... Jack’s face? There are posters everywhere, covering the walls. Some are clearly vintage, collector’s editions. Those are framed. Other are just copies of old propaganda posters or just Jack’s photos. On none of them is he wearing sunglasses. It’s before the attack.

There are two racks with sunglasses on a chest of drawers along with a lot of make-up and expensive looking skincare products that must all take hours to apply daily. There are a lot of mirrors, too, all of them small and coverable. Most are turned away, so one can’t see himself unless he willingly turns them around.

And there are reading glasses on one of the bed nightstands.

“So, you _do_ wear reading glasses!” Rhys exclaims stupidly excited. He immediately covers his mouth with his hand, forcing himself to be serious.

Jack raises both eyebrows. “Really, pumpkin? This is what got your attention? Nothing weird about this room?” He is making jabs, but he is also visibly relaxing.

“Well, yes? I guess so.” Rhys shrugs. “I know my priorities. Besides, I’m a psycho you freed from an asylum. I wouldn’t know normal if it was hitting me in the head. This might be the most normal room in the house, or the weirdest in the world, and I wouldn’t know.”

By the end of his monologue, Jack is openly laughing, and it makes Rhys so happy.

There is a knock on the door that startles both men a little. “Yes?” Jack calls out, frowning at the door. It’s obvious that he is not used to having anybody here, probably not even on this floor.

“Jack? Is Rhys with you?” It’s Tim.

Jack frowns more. “Yes, he is. Why?”

“He’s got a call.”

It takes Rhys all of one second to realise what’s being said and run to the door. He is mindful, and only opens it a little, so Tim doesn’t see much of Jack’s room (he is not looking anyway), and then he is almost snatching the phone from the twin’s offered hand.

“Vaughn! Vaughn, is that you?!”

_“Rhys! Thanks God! This was getting really weird…”_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a short, filler chapter. This divides the first and second arc of the story, and I think it does the job perfectly. :)
> 
> I can't believe I'm here posting the 7th chapter! This story is getting so much love, I'm so happy! ^.^ But I'm also a little nervous, because I still wasn't able to finish the last arc. :(

“Vaughn! Vaughn, is that you?!”

_“Rhys! Thanks God! This was getting really weird…”_

The brunette grins. “Yeah, I bet. Sorry, I don’t have a phone, so I borrowed one,” he explains. He hears the door behind him open again, but before Jack can ask, Tim is motioning for Rhys to go to his room, pulling Jack away from him.

“Vaughn, you won’t believe my life right now,” he sighs as he sits on the window in his room.

 _“Same, bro. I live in Helios now, and I think Yvette is pregnant, and I got our dream job!”_ Rhys grins at his best friend’s excitement. _“But you first, bro. So, you are out? Where do you live?”_

“No, no,” Rhys stops the stream of questions. “You know that I want to hear about your, _normal_ life first. What job?”

 _“An accountant for Hyperion. I’m not even the head yet, and I already make more than I did at my last job. It’s awesome, dude! Except for the boss, you know,”_ Vaughn begins to ramble, and Rhys has to swallow giggles. _“It’s true, the rumours. I almost shat my pants the first time he came into my department to scream at us that we are just a bunch of idiots. And he fires people_ daily _for the most basic stuff, like looking at him wrong. The man is crazy. Did you know he’s been in the same hospital as you for a week?”_

Rhys can’t supress a few giggles, but he forces himself to answer calmly. “Yeah, I know.”

 _“Crazy, right? I bet they treated him like a complete lunatic just to mess with him. That’s what I would do, anyway. So, yeah. I think Yvette is pregnant, but she denies it, says that it’s just belated or something. I wouldn’t mind having children now that I have this job, but she wants to get higher on the corporate ladder first.”_ Finally, it seems Vaughn’s excitement has died down a little, and it’s Rhys’ turn to talk. _“So, what about you, bro?”_

“I met someone in the hospital.” Okay, a weird thing to begin with – Vaughn’s silence speaks volumes now, but Rhys continues. “He was admitted by mistake, false accusation, and I think it opened my eyes a little. He told me about the outside world, he treated me… like a normal person.”

 _“You are_ not _a normal person, Rhys,”_ Vaughn reminds carefully.

“I know,” the brunette sighs, leaning on the window. “But Vaughn, he… he didn’t mind anything about me. He doesn’t mind that I need to eat dozen pills a day in order to not kill myself, he doesn’t mind that I’m crippled, he doesn’t mind that I’m gay. He accepted me from the beginning.”

 _“Well, I’m glad to hear that. Still, I would want to meet that guy, make sure he is good enough for you,_ ” he goes into full protective bro mode.

Rhys laughs. “We aren’t dating or anything. And… I don’t think you would want to meet him.” He waits for the confused why from Vaughn before dropping the bomb. “He is your boss. Handsome Jack.”

He can hear Vaughn choking on something, probably his own spit, and some distant female voice asking him if he is alright.

“Say hi to Yvette from me, would you?”

 _“Y-y-yeah. Rhys says hi… She says hi back…”_ Vaughn is still gasping for breath a little, sputtering. _“Rhys… I know that you are, but still –_ are you crazy?! _Handsome Jack?!”_ his voice gets an unnatural high pitch. _“How did you even get to know him?”_

“It’s a long, crazy story,” Rhys brushes it off for now. “I’ll tell you some other day. I just wanted to call you that I’m alright and make sure you are too. And…” he sighs. This is always hard. “Have you heard about my sisters, by any chance?”

 _“No, bro, sorry.”_ He can tell over the phone how sad his friend must look now. _“They are still keeping their distance.”_

“Good,” Rhys forces himself into a lighter tone. “That’s good. This way, we are safer. The past can’t get to us.”

 _“Yeah, sure,”_ Vaughn sighs. _“I still miss them all.”_

“Me to, bro. More than you can imagine.”

Silence fills the line for a while, and Rhys decides that that’s enough for today. He feels drained even though he didn’t accomplish anything today. “I gotta go, dinner will be ready soon. I’m glad I was able to catch up. Talk to you soon, bro. Love you!”

_“Love you too, bro. Don’t leave me hanging.”_

He walks to the dining room after he ends the call, but there is nobody there. He can hear them, though, and so he follows the voices into a great living room.

Great might even be an understatement. It’s _huge_. Two large sofas, many armchairs, loveseats. Coffee tables, rugs, a fireplace. If all of the bedrooms in the house were taken, all the people would probably comfortably fit in the living room. Still, it looks cosy, not too spacious, and everybody is sitting close anyway.

Jack is sitting on an armchair that is not different from the other armchairs in the room, but somehow, the CEO makes it look like a throne. Timothy sits next to Wilhelm on a sofa. They aren’t touching, there is space between them, but they are close. And obviously trying hard not to lean into each another. How could have Rhys missed it before? It’s so obvious now. They are even sharing a pizza, and Wilhelm picks the olives out of his pieces carefully to add them on Tim’s. From all the books Rhys had read he knows that soldiers usually aren’t picky, and so he chooses to believe that Wil is doing it for Tim, who seems to love olives.

Angel is sitting on the floor on a pillow, eating her own pizza. Nisha is on a chair behind her, eating Hawaii and making comments about how delicious it is, earning disgusted looks from both Jack and his daughter.

Rhys is unsure of where to sit, but as he returns the comm to its owner, he is all but pushed into an armchair between Jack and Tim and a box with Margherita is placed on his lap.

Everybody except for Jack is engaged in some conversation, and Rhys takes a while just nibbling on his pizza and enjoying the scene. It’s so domestic and familiar. And then even more people join – Rhys only recognises Axton – and they bring more pizza and drinks in cans, and this all gets the pizza party, movie marathon night feeling.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

Rhys jumps, hearing Jack’s voice way too close. When he turns around, he sees that the man’s pizza was placed on the floor and he is leaning towards Rhys. “What are you thinking about, pumpkin?” he asks with a light frown. “Is everything alright? We can eat somewhere else if this is too crowded for you.”

“No, no, this is fine,” he assures him. “More than fine. I was just… This reminds me of old times. Pizza parties, movie nights, lots of friends…” he sighs. This feels pleasantly melancholic, but it also makes him more tired.

Jack smirks. “We are going to have to do this more often if it makes you happy.” He goes back to his pizza, and only now Rhys sees what a monstrosity it is. There are eggs, bacon, meat, sausage, onion, tomatoes, sweet corn, chilli sauce... basically everything.

Rhys makes a face, something between disgusted and offended, and Jack notices and grins. “Do you want to try?” he offers a piece.

“No, thanks,” Rhys fights the urge to shy away from the greasy food.

“Wise choice,” Angel comments. “Not even uncle Tim or Wilhelm are able to eat that. Only Jack is that crazy.”

“It’s delicious!” Jack argues.

“How could you scrunch your nose up over grilled cheese, but eat this?” Rhys asks, siding with the rest of the room who hum in approval.

“There is almost no cheese on this pizza,” Jack points out. “And I have a gym in this house, while in that stupid hospital there was none. So, I can eat this from time to time.”

Rhys finds it fascinating when Jack really eats all of the monstrosity, and even steals a piece from Angel’s pizza as a dessert. The teenager makes an offended noise and steals Jack’s can of coke.

Rhys watches in silence as the people talk about their days, make fun of each other, share each other’s food and drinks. It fills him with warmth, because he is allowed to be a part of _this_ , this amazing family.

He doesn’t know when he falls asleep, but he wakes up on the sofa next morning, covered by a soft quilt.

* * *

Rhys kindly refuses to participate in more of Angel’s lessons before he feels confident about his knowledge again, and so he spends his days in the library, reading almost every educational book there is. He also receives his own comm from Jack, so he can call Vaughn, or Jack if he feels lonely during the day.

The evenings and nights are what is interesting. Jack usually cooks, only when he comes home late do they order takeout. Rhys is slowly learning to join the conversations and talk with the people without feeling out of place. They accept him pretty easily.

After Rhys’ first week there, Jack begins to talk about getting him an arm. Rhys bites his tongue every time he wants to ask how much such a thing costs, because he honestly doesn’t want to know. Jack seems adamant of doing it anyway, and knowing the number wouldn’t help Rhys at all. 

Getting a cybernetic arm apparently means meeting a lot of people and doing a lot of exercises, which Rhys does more than willingly. It includes Jack massaging the tense and twisted muscles in his shoulder every night and Rhys trying to move as much of it as he can control. It also involves closing his eyes, imagining that he has an arm, and pretending that he is moving it, which seems incredibly silly, but he does it anyway.

When Rhys is introduced to Gaige, the specialist Jack talked about before, he is a little sceptical. She is younger than him, probably barely older than Angel. But she apparently knows very well what she is doing, because she has a cybernetic arm of her own.

She takes one look at Rhys’ naked shoulder, tickles him a little, pinches the taut scarred skin, and tells Jack that Rhys is suitable.

“So, what colour would you like?” she asks.

Rhys blinks. Not only that he can pick a colour, but also— “You will be making the arm?” he asks.

“Who else?” she frowns. “I’m the best, don’t worry.”

“It’s not that— I know, just— Agh, what colours are there?” he asks, giving up on explaining himself. Why should his arm be made by the best specialist Hyperion has?

Jack scoffs behind him. “All of them, pumpkin. I was thinking gold, or silver…”

Gaige makes a face that only a teenager (or Jack) can make so publicly. “God, no! Not gold, that would be terrible on him. Red, maybe silver with blue…”

“Yellow?” Rhys tries.

“You heard him,” Jack stops any input from Gaige, probably liking the younger man’s choice. “So, off you go!” he basically pushes the young woman out of the door. “And have someone schedule the surgery.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: When I was writing the part about pizza, I accidentally included cucumber on Jack's. True monstrosity.


	8. Chapter 8

A day before his surgery, which Rhys still doesn’t know how he feels about, Jack barges into his room at four in the morning. “Get up, sleeping beauty. You are coming with me to work.” He knows that Rhys is not a morning person, and so he immediately goes to pull his covers off him. When that doesn’t help, and Rhys only curls up, immediately forgetting about the man in his room, he shakes his shoulder. “Hey, no sleeping! I’ll get you coffee, but I need you to come with me.”

“Whyyyy?” Rhys whines, slowly, very slowly sitting up and stretching.

“I got an echo from my person at the APS that someone will be coming to check on you. We need to show them that you are healthy, happy, and working for me. Or there will be questions I don’t want to be answering. So, chop-chop, get up! Rise and shine! Up ‘n at ‘em!” Pause. “Or do I need to get a glass of cold water?”

Rhys groans, but finally gets up from the bed. He blearily notices that Jack is fully dressed, sunglasses in his waistcoat pocket. He searches his still almost amusingly empty closet for his dress shirt and trousers, a pair of lucky socks, nicer shoes.

Jack keeps knocking on his bathroom door as Rhys changes and brushes his hair that is way too long and needs a haircut. “Come on! You don’t need to look perfect, just healthy.”

Rhys follows Jack into the car like a zombie. It takes him appropriately long to realise that Jack is driving.

“You are driving,” he notes when they are halfway through the city.

Jack laughs. “Yes, I am. Nice observation, cupcake. Did you also notice that we are in a car?”

Rhys grumbles. “I didn’t think you would drive.”

“Well, I’m not a heartless asshole, so I don’t make my drivers get up at three in the morning to get me to my office at five. I can drive myself just alright.”

Rhys swallows another grumble about him being waken up heartlessly and falls asleep in the car.

He is woken up again when Jack presses a bag with two coffees and some pastry into his hand and urges him out of the car. The CEO’s hands are full of papers and his pace is swift. Half of the people they meet on their way to the office are in similar state as Rhys, but they perk up when they see the boss and immediately get to their work.

Rhys shamelessly collapses on the couch in Jack’s office, and his eyes start closing again. But suddenly, something cold lands on his face, and he gasps.

“Fuck!” he curses, using the sleeve of his shirt to dry his face. “Where did you get water?”

Jack laughs. “From the fountain, dumdum.”

“What fountain?”

Jack erupts into a fit of laughter, breathlessly telling Rhys to turn around. The younger man does so, carefully sitting up so he can look over the backrest of the couch. His eyes widen when he notices what he missed previously.

Jack’s office is as amazing as his mansion. There really are fountains, there is a huge window observing the city under them, there is a huge yellow chair/throne, and a shelf full of technic-ky looking things Rhys assumes are prototypes of the devices Hyperion sells. He frowns when he recognises one of the oldest Hyperion weapons, one he knows very well from Pandora, even outside the war zone.

“So, what do you think?” Jack asks, his voice muffled as he is eating a muffin.

“Cool office,” Rhys admits. “What’s that shelf?”

“My accomplishments, I’d say. Everything I’m proud of. You should be sitting there too, come to think about it…”

Rhys is glad that Jack can’t see his face now, because the statement makes him blush against his will. “Why is there a pistol? Hyperion Vision, right?”

He can hear the frown in Jack’s voice. “It made us a lot of money. It was a complete turnaround for the company.”

 _No, not the pistol. The war made a lot of money._ Rhys sighs. He can’t blame Jack for what Pandora is. He is trying to help them.

“So, what will be my job today?” he asks as he finally sits straight on the couch and reaches for his coffee.

“Sit at the desk here and look pretty,” Jack points a finger over his shoulder. “I had this brought here when I officially hired you, everybody knows it’s there, and everybody knows to swear that you work with me daily if they are asked. You are doing my schedule, checking my emails, sorting paperwork.”

The coffee turns sour in the brunette’s mouth. “I can’t do any of that, Jack,” he reminds.

“You don’t have to, kitten. Just try to pretend. I don’t know when they will come, but as soon as they are gone, I’ll have someone bring you home, and you can sleep. What’cha say? Can you try for me?” He wiggles his eyebrows in that excited, childish manner.

“Yeah, of course. I will try,” Rhys nods confidently.

“That’s the spirit!” Jack pats his shoulder. “Now, just try to not fall asleep on the desk. Maybe make notes when someone comes in to talk a hole into my head; it will look professional.”

Rhys thinks that he can do that.

Jack spends the first few hours working on his computer or paperwork. When it’s not so early in the morning anymore, he begins to make phone calls. The change in his moods is fascinating. He gets angry easily, and then, when the other participant is rightfully frightened, Jack turns calm, finishing the call with a few casual threats that make the hair on Rhys’ neck bristle.

Around 10 AM, people start visiting the office, most of them trembling in fear, stuttering and trying to get out as soon as possible. Jack seems to be annoyed by this kind of behaviour, but at the same time, he doesn’t even try to make himself be less scary.

Rhys listens to every one of those messengers, middle managers, or whoever comes, and makes notes about what they are saying. He’s always been left-handed, so writing isn’t that hard. He just needs something to hold the paper down, and so he steals some weird decoration from Jack’s desk. It’s a model of human hand skeleton in gold.

Most of the people that come in talk about money. Either the reason why their department isn’t making enough of it, or why their brilliant idea needs more of it. Rhys doesn’t understand money after years of not needing to use it on himself, so his notes are very random about this.

But then there is this one guy named Gary who talks about his brilliant idea about a new type of power shields. He recites numbers and hands out papers with the same numbers and some calculations to both Jack and Rhys, and he is very confident about needing 20 million dollars for this project, and also a whole team of experts.

Jack seems to like the idea and sends the man away with his blessing. Rhys waits until he is gone, and then he walks over to the CEO’s desk.

“Uhm, Jack? Could you look at this, please?” he puts the paper in front of him. There are a few notes he made about the calculations. “I’m not an expert, and I’m probably wrong, but isn’t this bullshit? The amount of heat this would produce would melt some of the materials of the cooling system before it would be absorbed and cooled.” When Jack doesn’t say anything, just frowns at the numbers, and then at Rhys, he hesitates. “Or maybe it doesn’t work like that…”

“No, it works exactly like that,” Jack assures him. “I’m gonna so fire that man, but first, tell me – how would you know that?”

Rhys gulps. Is this Jack’s paranoia? “I… I read a lot of books from your library lately. One of them was about this exact problem. Is it– Is it wrong?”

Jack blinks at him. “No, pumpkin, it’s amazing. But you said you don’t have an education, and I– Honestly, this is a very complicated problem.”

Rhys blushes and looks away. “No, it’s not. Even a little kid would realise that the material of the cooler must withstand the temperature it’s supposed to be cooling.”

“Yeah, but I doubt any kid would be able to support that claim with this calculation,” he taps one of Rhys’ scribbles on the paper. Jack’s intercom beeps just as he is beginning to say something else, and he presses some random button. “Let them in. Now, where was I…”

“I was not sure about the formula, but if it is right, then it means his design could be repaired, I think,” Rhys interrupts him, completely ignoring whoever came into the office. They will probably be as boring or as annoying as the rest, so they can wait. “If there were two separate cooling systems, then it might work. It would be like computers. One part takes the biggest blow, and the other cools the first part.”

Jack stops him with a wave of his hand. “Can I help you?” he turns to the people that came in.

“Good afternoon, Mr Lawrence, Mr Strongfork,” a woman in a suit speaks, pulling out her badge. “My name is Linda Howard, and I work for Helios’ Adult Protective Services. My job was to make sure Mr Strongfork comes to work regularly, and his position isn’t too hard on him, given his medical state, but I’ve already been told by your secretary that he comes in every day, and now I also see that this position is just fine. Am I right?”

All eyes turn on him, and Rhys fortunately manages not to panic. “Yes, it is. I’ve always wanted to work for Hyperion, and Ja– Mr Lawrence is the best boss. He is very understanding of my medical state.”

The woman’s eyes travel to the skeleton hand on Rhys’ desk, and only now does he realise the irony. But instead of making him grumpy, it makes the corners of his mouth tug up. “Yeah, that’s a… helping hand. So the papers don’t move around as I write,” he explains.

“I see,” the woman says carefully. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Mr Strongfork. This is all I need. Have a nice rest of the workday.”

As soon as the woman and whoever it is who came with her leave, Rhys and Jack burst out laughing, and don’t stop for a long time. “He-he-helping hand!” Jack hollers. “I didn’t know you had it in you, pumpkin!”

“I know, I know,” Rhys says, gasping for breath. “It came on its own; I wasn’t planning that, I swear!” Tears are streaming down his face and his whole chest hurts from the fits of laughter.

“I’m gonna promote you for this!” Jack says, finally calming down a little. “When you heal from the surgery, I want you here every day. I haven’t laughed like this in a long time.”

“Me neither,” Rhys allows himself a few last giggles and then he takes deep breaths to calm down. When Jack isn’t laughing anymore, and the office is almost quiet, suddenly, Rhys feels cold. He shivers, trying to find the source of that.

“Pumpkin? What’s going on?” Jack asks him, pulling him to sit on his lap. “Your arm is shaking.”

Yes, it is. Just like when his medicine stops working. Which is probably exactly what is happening. Rhys has taken the last pills in the morning, and he can’t take anything else until after the surgery, because of all the drugs they will be pumping into him.

“I’m cold,” he says, voice weak. Just as weak as him.

“Do you want to go home? I can finish my work in the home office, if you want me to come with you,” Jack offers.

Rhys shakes his head. “No, that’s… That’s not necessary. I can go on my own.” He hates how much he wants Jack to come home with him, to be there, to help him fight the bad feelings. He also hates that the emotion that appears on the CEO’s face looks like hurt. But he can’t cause Jack so many problems. He is already a burden.

“Okay, I’ll call someone to pick you up,” Jack says eventually, hugging Rhys firmly once, before allowing him to get up.

* * *

Rhys is not supposed to eat dinner or drink anything after certain hour, so he spends the evening in his room, sitting by the window. He hates to admit it, but he only manages to not let the bad thoughts in because he is worried sick about the surgery. He feels like his life is moving without his input. Like someone is making the choices for him.

But maybe it’s better like that. The only choices Rhys had ever made caused him to lose his sisters, to have criminal records worth a bandit, to lose an arm and the sight in one of his eyes, to lose his friends and freedom. Maybe he should let Jack control his life, like he let August when he lived with him.

He still tries to avoid Jack when he comes up after dinner. When he hears the steps, Rhys disappears into the bathroom. He sits on the closed lid of the toilet and watches the fish in the tank. They have about as much control of their lives as he does, but they look happy. Sometimes one of them decides to die, and Rhys sees its pale body floating on the surface in the morning, only for it to disappear after Tassiter visits his bathroom to pick up used towels.

Rhys tries to push the thought away. He is not like the fish. He can’t just decide to die and wait for someone to pick up his body and flush it in the toilet. He focuses on the sound of Jack’s steps in his room. He leaves when he realises that Rhys is in the bathroom.

He keeps watching the fish, trying to give them all names of the people who live in the mansion. The most beautiful, almost golden one with a long tail is Jack, of course. It’s pretty beat up with a lot of scars, because it draws attention. The ugly brown fish that sucks the glass to clean it of moss is Tassiter. The biggest fish is Wilhelm, ant the pretty orange one that seems to cling to it is Timothy. The black fish is Angel, because of her hair.

Rhys must have been doing this for long, because there is suddenly someone knocking on the door. “Rhys, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles. He is not sure if it’s Jack or Tim speaking, because the gentle, concerned voice could belong to both.

“Are you sick?”

He sighs. “Just hiding.”

A chuckle. “I found you.”

“Yes, you did,” he admits, one corner of his mouth tugging up. Definitely Jack. Tim would apologise and leave.

“Can I come in, please?”

Or is there someone else? Maybe a clone? Are the twins actually just two of three? “Well, you asked nicely, so yes.”

The door opens, and Jack walks in. He sits on the edge of the tub and watches Rhys silently.

He is not used to that. Usually, when he is silent, Jack talks about something. He always knows what to say, and there is never awkward silence between them. And so, Rhys decides to fill the silence.

“I named the fish,” he says. “The one who swims high – the golden one – is Jack.” He proceeds to name all the fish and the reason why he named them like this to Jack who lets out a few chuckles, and one long laugh when he learns what is Tassiter.

“Is it true?” Rhys asks, finally. “That you took over his company and hired him to clean your toilets?”

Jack smirks. “Basically, yes.”

“That’s very… super-villain.”

“That’s me, the sexy super-hero,” Jack flashes out his trademark grin.

“Hey! I said villain!” Rhys snorts.

“That’s right, hero,” Jack keeps up the act, winking at him.

Rhys giggles. “Asshole…”

“So, which one is you?” Jack asks.

Rhys frowns. “None.”

“Why not?”

“There is none left for me, I guess,” he lies with a shrug. Truth is, he forgot to find one for himself.

“So, there is Mordecai, my chef, but not you? That needs to change.”

They sit in silence for a while, and then Jack asks: “So, what are you hiding from?”

Rhys closes his eyes, hoping that he will be able to escape the question, but it’s futile. He sighs. “From—” He can’t tell Jack that he was hiding from him. “I’m scared. Everything is happening… too fast. My life was the same every day for the past few years, and now everything is changing. And the surgery – it’s scary, okay? I’m scared. I know that I’m a wimp, but it’s—”

“It’s alright to be scared, Rhys,” Jack stops him. “Do you think that I wasn’t scared when my face was melting and there were dozens of doctors running around me? If I had the choice, I would never step into a hospital again.”

“Handsome Jack is never scared,” Rhys smirks.

“Yeah, but my name is John.”

Rhys pauses. What? Were they really triplets? No, no, that’s bullshit, _stop producing bullshit, brain._ “What?”

Jack/John sighs. “That’s the name my mother picked for me. Our father picked Timmy’s, but she chose mine. I changed it as soon as I could, before I became the CEO of Hyperion. Erased all traces, too. I hated the name.”

“Hated? Like, past tense?” he asks stupidly.

Jack snorts. “’Jack’ means _God is gracious_ , while ‘John’ means _The grace of the Lord_. It’s both the same kind of bullshit. I changed my name, tried to change who I am, but I just spiralled backwards.”

“Tim said that you were a great older brother. Maybe John wasn’t bad,” Rhys suggests.

With another snort, Jack leans forward to ruffle Rhys’ hair. “Good try, pumpkin. Tim-Tam has no idea what I did to protect him. I did some awful things.”

“Did you steal?” Rhys asks. “Did you take beatings for him? Did you threaten people with death? Did you let a person who tried to assault your sibling fall into a pool of toxic waste, and did you wait for a good few minutes before calling help?”

Jack’s jaw goes slack, mouth slightly open. Rhys is not done. “I did awful things too, Jack. I don’t regret them. This is not what makes me a bad person. I protected my siblings, and that’s the right thing to do. You are not the only one who has gone through this, and you know it.”

There is silence, and Rhys eventually breaks and backs off. “Sorry, that was an overreaction. I wasn’t trying to say that what you went through doesn’t matter.”

“No, it’s alright,” Jack shakes his head. “You are right. I’m not the only one who had a shitty childhood. Sometimes I act like it’s all that I am. But I’m much more, right?” he looks at the younger man expectantly.

“You are a hero, Handsome Jack,” Rhys says with only a tiny hint of sarcasm. “John,” he adds tentatively.

“Let’s stick with Jack for now,” he laughs. “So, what now? Are you gonna sleep? You should.”

Rhys shrugs. “I can try. But… I’m still scared of tomorrow.” _And of this life…_

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Jack stands up and gently tugs at Rhys’ hand to get him to stand up too. “I’ll be here there in the morning, and I’ll make sure you are not alone in the hospital,” he promises, and it makes Rhys feel terrible for wanting even more.

As they walk into the bedroom, and Rhys mindlessly strips to his boxers while Jack dims the lights in the room except for a small lamp on the nightstand, he gathers courage. “Jack?” he speaks quietly as the older man helps him to get into bed. “Can you… Can you stay with me tonight? I don’t have nightmares when I’m with you.”

It sounds selfish no matter how he puts it, but Jack only smiles. “Of course, cupcake,” he says as he strips too and lays next to Rhys. The younger man cuddles close, uncaring about their nakedness or anything else. It’s just them, and Jack is so warm, and he is gently caressing the scarred skin on his back without judging, and it’s so perfect!

* * *

_Rhys is running. He distantly recognises the street, although he’s only been there once. When Fiona called him to tell him that she is being pursued by some strange man._

_He searches his memory, or maybe turns on instinct, and runs straight into the old factory. She was hiding there, somewhere. He told her to find a place to hide, that he will be there soon. She sounded so scared, and she begged him to come_ fast _._

_He is out of breath when he searches all of the rooms, all the hiding spot. “Fiona!” he calls her name, but there is only echo answering him. “Fiona! Where are you?! It’s me, Fi! Rhys!”_

_He feels cold sweat drip down his body as he hears a wet sound from outside of the factory. Oh no… He runs there, hoping that it’s not what it sounds like. But when he is outside, full moon shining bright at the scenery, he screams._

* * *

“Rhys! Rhysie, wake up! It’s just a bad dream…”

It takes him a minute to remember who is talking to him, and he panickily shakes the calming hands off. The light is turned on, and for another second, Rhys sees a different face in front of him. One scarred from cystic acne, not a terrorist attack. One with a black hole in the temple. But then he blinks it off and recognises Jack.

“You with me now?” the man asks.

Rhys nods and starts rubbing his face like he could just wipe the dream away. “Sorry,” he talks through his hand. “Bad dream. Sorry for waking you.”

“No problem, kid. I’m usually up and in the gym at this hour anyway.”

“When do you even sleep?” Rhys asks, taking his mind off the dream. “Are you a vampire or something?”

“I sleep mostly on boring meetings and on comfortable piles of paperwork,” the other man laughs. “So, what was the dream about?”

Rhys groans and starts rubbing his face again. His left eye itches strangely. “You know, I was trying to _forget_ about the dream.”

“Saying it loud will help you, trust me. You will realise that it’s just a product of your mind, not a real thing. Tell me, Rhysie.” He moves closer, hugging the younger man’s shoulders.

Rhys leans into Jack’s chest. “So, it was a memory. Of something I told you about yesterday. It was… When it started, I think I knew that I was dreaming, but then I forgot, went back in time into that situation. It was the same. My sister called me that she is being followed, and I ran to get her. She was hiding in some old factory, and I won’t bother you with my heroic story of how a lanky kid like me got a grown man to jump into a pool of toxic waste, but back then, I saved her.

“But in the dream, she wasn’t inside, and I ran outside, and there was everyone. There was so much blood, so many bodies. Like a cheap horror movie, really,” he laughs. “Wow, I should have never watched all eight Buzzaxe movies with Vaughn.”

“See? Better, right?” Jack pulls him closer for a while, and then he pulls him down to lay again. “Let’s sleep some more, alright? You’ll need strength. You are going to spend _three days_ on hospital food, yuck!”

“I’ll also have a complicated surgery…” Rhys reminds, but his eyes are already closing, his nose buried in Jack’s neck, and he falls asleep so fast he almost doesn’t hear the answer to that.

“Priorities, kid. Priorities.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely made the thing about Vision up. The weapon is real, but I have no idea if it’s oldest. :D


	9. Chapter 9

With nobody waking him up for breakfast or pills, and a warm body next to him, Rhys has no problem to sleep late, until it’s just about the time they head off to the Hyperion’s private hospital. Rhys doesn’t bother putting on nice clothes. He goes for sweatpants and an old comfy t-shirt.

It’s a little embarrassing that half of his wardrobe disappears when he packs for four days, but he tries not to ponder over it. He focuses on the occasional rumbling of his empty belly, on the thirst. Anything but the nerves.

They drive yet another car, different from the one Jack uses to drive to work. This one is black, big, looking intimidating. Rhys voices his thoughts, making Jack laugh.

“It sure as hell should look intimidating. I want the doctors to know that their patient is someone important, and that they should move their asses fast and give you the best care.”

“Well, let’s just hope their hands don’t shake when they’re scared,” Rhys attempts to make a joke. He fails.

The private hospital is surprisingly big. Rhys learns that it’s the best one in town, very expensive, unless you are a Hyperion employee, and it needs to be big because the Hyperion employees get hurt often. Why, Jack doesn’t tell.

“You can’t go any further, Mr Lawrence,” a nurse tries to stop Jack as soon as they enter.

“Sweetie,” Jack turns to her, looming over her short height, “remember please who signs your paycheck. Probably the head of this facility. Whose paycheck is signed by me. If you want to receive another paycheck, you will let me in.” He looks hundred percent more intimidating when he talks calmly then when he screams. The woman backs off quickly.

Jack stays by Rhys’ side as he is admitted, he stays close as he is lead from one specialist to another for last minute tests, x-ray and health check. He is also the last voice he hears before he is put to sleep.

* * *

Rhys wakes up to a strange female’s voice calling his name. “Mr Strongfork? Can you hear me, Mr Strongfork?”

He groans in answer, too groggy to do much else. She, fortunately, stops bothering him. He feels the world moving, and he slowly realises that his bed is being moved.

At the same time, he also begins to notice the throbbing pain in his shoulder. He feels that the pain is strong, but at the same time he doesn’t really feel it. Just the dull throbbing. Like he was ignoring the rest. Still, he is happy when darkness engulfs him once more.

* * *

The next time Rhys wakes up, he feels more pain, but it’s still bearable. He can see settling sun through the window to his right, and only then does he realise that he is in a hospital room. And he is alone.

Distinctly, he remembers where the button that calls a nurse should be, and he carefully finds it with his left hand. In less than a minute, which must be a record, a young woman runs into his room.

“Oh, you are awake. Is everything alright, Mr Strongfork?”

He wonders how much Jack intimidated the staff. “Hungry,” he tries to say, having to try multiple times, because his throat is dry and awfully sore.

He gets a glass of water first, and then a meal that doesn’t look like hospital food. It’s pasta, shaped like animals, with minced meat and some nice smelling sauce.

The nurse helps him to sit up, putting pillows under his back. He winces when he leans on the right half of his body. He wishes Jack would be there for a slightly different reason that being lonely.

“Uhm, nurse? Could you do something for me?” This will have to do.

“Of course, sir. What do you need? Do you need help eating?”

He can’t help a small frown. No, he doesn’t need help with eating with a spoon, thanks. “Just… I can’t turn my head to the right, and I… I want to know how it looks?”

She seems a little taken aback, but she takes his comm and snaps a photo of his shoulder. She shows him, and it actually looks better than he thought it would. There is light bruising, his skin looks weirdly stretched, and the connection to the metallic part looks worse than unnatural, but there is less scars than what he had. Maybe there will be more under the few bandages.

He eats slowly, his stomach protesting against the food, even if it is light. Then he gets tired again, probably because he is healing, and he falls asleep. He tells the nurse to wake him up if he has any visitors, though.

* * *

Rhys had no visitors. In the morning, a middle-aged doctor comes to tell him about how successful the surgery was and how fast his recovery probably will be, and that they will release him according to plan in two days. Until then, he will be on pain suppressants so strong (advanced and expensive) he won’t even know that there are huge black bruises on his shoulder now.

Rhys waits patiently for Jack to come visit him, or anybody else, or a call, but the only call he gets is Vaughn asking him how it went. Rhys sends him the photo later, getting a _wicked!_ in return. He contemplates texting Jack, but he decides that he is above that. He can go a day without him. Jack is probably with his family.

He gets a little grumpy by dinner where there still isn’t any visit, and he goes to sleep early, telling himself that there surely will be a visit tomorrow. But he is woken up around 10 PM by a nurse who looks very scared, telling him that he has a visitor.

Rhys perks up immediately, thinking about all the bad abandonment jokes he will make on Jack’s account, but it’s not the CEO who comes through the door, ways past visitation hours.

“Uh, hi, Angel,” he says, not able to hide a little disappointment.

“Hi,” she says in the same tone, sitting on a chair and looking just as awkward as he feels. “Oh, and Axton says hi, too,” she adds, moving her chin towards the door. The bodyguard is probably there, being the one who escorted her, maybe the one who intimidated the staff.

“I was wondering, have you seen my father?” she asks.

Rhys blinks. “No. Not since before the surgery.” He shivers as he gets a bad feeling. “Did anything happen?”

“No, no, nothing!” she assures him quickly. “It’s just that he hasn’t been at home since he dropped you off here, and I was wondering if he at least appeared here, or if he is just locked in his office. He texted me that afternoon that he will come home late because he got a brilliant idea. He’s probably still working on it, high on caffeine, you know it. I’ll have to send someone to bring him home to eat and sleep. Probably uncle Tim; he will be happy that he can get Wilhelm to go home and not stand by a lunatic’s door. Hey, you alright? You seem quiet.”

“Just sleepy,” he lies. Truth is, he doesn’t know how to feel. So, Jack didn’t just forget to visit him, but he is too deep in some project in a workaholic CEO mode. That is good. Why is he still feeling bad, then?

“Oh, sorry. You should probably rest and heal. I’ll go.”

She is gone in a minute, no traces left. Rhys is alone with his thoughts once again, and he decides to sleep.

* * *

It’s hard to get up the next day. It’s like there is no point to get up unless the nurses explicitly want him to. Bathroom, toilet, and back to sleep. Either _sleep_ sleep, or _feeling like shit and therefore keeping his eyes shut and thoughts low_ sleep. He also stares into distance a lot. With his bad eye, because what point is there in actually seeing?

Does this mean that he is dependent on Jack? It almost looks like an addiction. His left arm is often shaking and his eye twitching. He is simply pathetic.

He spends the whole day like that, until there is a knock on the door. “May I come in?”

He wants to tell Timothy off, but what if he has some super-power that will make Rhys feel better? “Yeah,” he mumbles.

Tim sits in the same chair as Angel did. Rhys keeps staring into the distance.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Another silence. He can’t bring himself to say something. God, he is so pathetic. Is he like this towards all his friends? Did he always treat his close friends like that? No wonder they left him. He would also kill himself rather than be with himself.

“I brought you something,” Tim says. “It’s probably stupid, but Angel said that you’ve been here alone all the time… It’s definitely stupid.” A sigh. “Sorry.”

Rhys forces his head up to look at whatever Tim is holding. It’s a teddy bear. It doesn’t have an arm, like him.

“I bought it at the gift shop in another hospital and brought it here. Turns out, this hospital doesn’t have any gift shop. In the other one they have all kinds of teddies. I’ve even seen a smooth one for radiation treatment patients. And there was one that started vibrating if you pressed its paw, for brain shivers. There were more of that than missing limbs, would you believe that?”

Tim has the same rambling tendency like Rhys or Jack. Talk, talk; and if it doesn’t make the situation better, talk some more. “It’s nice,” the younger man forces himself to say. “Thank you.” He hates it, really. He hates himself for not being complete. Hates his body. And now there is a teddy bear to remind him of that. Of his worst choice in life. He should have chosen a higher cliff.

“Okay, I’ll leave it there,” Tim puts the plush on the end of the bed. “I was sent to bring Jack home willingly or with the help of violence, so I’ll go and do that. See you!”

“Yeah, see you,” Rhys answers robotically. He is glad that Tim doesn’t pry about his feelings. He would only waste time. Jack should be with his family, and Tim has a mission. Rhys is just an obstacle.

* * *

He must have fallen asleep sometime after dinner, although sleep is getting harder and harder to achieve. He is woken up by someone poking his cheek.

“Heya, cupcake!” Jack grins at him when he opens his eyes. “Did you miss me? Tim said you had no visitors. I’m sorry, I got caught up in work, but now I’m here, all yours!”

Something seems off about the CEO, but Rhys can’t put a name on it. Perfect clothes, perfect hair, sunglasses indoors even at night. It all seems normal. Even the erratic energy.

“So, what do we do? I haven’t visited someone in a hospital in _yeeeeaaaars_. I can take you for a stroll in a wheelchair, or sneak in fast food, though I paid for some extra diamond special menu, so that should be good. We can play cards. Do you know poker? I’m good at poker. I’ll win all of your money, and then give you back twice as much, because I’m a hero, and rich.”

So, maybe there _is_ something wrong with the energy. Jack seems to grow more and more restless in the chair, and he finally gets up, pacing the room in quick steps. “You see, I was working on this awesome project today, to pass time until you wake up, and suddenly, Tim is there, telling me to get my stupid ass home and here. And so, I pretended to get in his car and instead jumped in mine and drove here. Handsome Jack doesn’t listen to anybody, you see?”

“Jack, how much coffee did you have?” Rhys asks carefully.

“I dunno. Who am I to keep track? Ask my secretary. But I remember having two espressos on my desk when Timmy came in. Sweet Timmy probably wanted me to release Wil. I told him he can go, but that stubborn ass won’t leave my side when I’m working on projects like this. I had to escape him too to get here.”

Rhys is not sure what is he supposed to do now. If Angel was right, Jack hadn’t slept for days, and is high on caffeine. He didn’t even sleep after Rhys had the nightmare. He was working on his comm till morning.

Fortunately, Rhys doesn’t have to do anything. As Jack goes on and on about his latest money-maker, the door opens, and there is another Jack. Not Timothy, because Rhys could never imagine the gentle twin looking this angry, but just another Jack. Rhys would swear later that Tim looked like an unleashed demon as he frowned at his brother.

“You asshole!” he yells. “Are you _completely crazy_?! Did you really drive in _this state_?! And why did you run like a small kid that doesn’t want to bathe? I’m not your mother, Jack Lawrence, and I don’t want to chase you through the town to get you to rest! Why are you so— Aaaargh!”

“Tim-Tams,” Jack smiles at him fondly. “Why so angry? I can take care of myself.”

“Get. Into. The car. _Now!_ Jack.” Tim seethes through clenched jaw. “I swear I’ll have Wil carry you there in a straitjacket! He is pissed too.”

“Alright, alright! But you are going to the office as me tomorrow, because I’m gonna be here, at five in the morning sharp.”

“Please, no. Not so soon,” Rhys interrupts, until now only watching the situation.

“Right, not a morning person. 6 AM be it, then,” Jack decides. “Now, let’s go! I could use a better shower than the one in the office.” He leaves, not without spontaneously kissing Rhys’ forehead goodbye, and Tim follows him, still seething.

When there is silence, a nurse comes to check if Rhys is alright. When even they leave, Rhys lets out a chuckle. Then another. Soon, he is muffling laughter into the pillow, because this was honestly hilarious. Seeing Jack being scolded like a kid after acting like a kid, by Tim of all people!

* * *

Rhys doesn’t wake up in the joyful mood. Actually, he wakes up with a nightmare and can’t fall asleep later. And even though he keeps telling himself to not hold onto fake promises, he keeps watching the door when the clock hits six. But Jack doesn’t come.

He can’t feel happy for pancakes for breakfast, but he eats them. He always eats what is served, what is _available_. Because he still remembers times when food was a rarity.

He goes straight back to sleep, turning to his left side, then on back, then on stomach, then back, left, back, stomach, left, stomach, back... It’s not really a sleep, but it’s the best he has against thinking. Thinking is very bad.

Jack would rather be hiding in his office than visiting Rhys. And now he was probably in the office again. Maybe this time, he would come and see Rhys in a better state, but who knows.

When the door opens shortly after 11 AM, Rhys doesn’t even turn around as he mumbles to the nurse that he doesn’t need to go to the toilet yet. But the person doesn’t leave.

“Rhysie?” The voice is Tim’s, but the pet name is Jack’s. Slowly, the man walks around the bed and comes to view. He takes off his sunglasses, revealing a scar.

Rhys had half expected that everything will be miraculously better as soon as Jack comes to see him, but nothing had changed as he stood in front of him, and it almost made Rhys angry at the whole world, except that he was just numb. He stared into the space between Jack’s left leg and the wall.

“Are you angry at me?” Jack asks. He sounds guarded, defensive, but then he sighs. “I guess you have the right to be. Everybody is angry at me. While I’m only doing it all for you, so y'all can have a nice life!”

“I’m happy,” Rhys whispers softly. “Thank you, Jack.”

But that doesn’t satisfy the man. “No, no, no, Rhysie. I’m not angry at you. Look at me, pumpkin.” He kneels next to the bed, forcing his way into Rhys’ view. He gently cups his face, but the younger man still doesn’t look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“’S alright,” Rhys says softly. “I understand.”

“I bet you don’t,” Jack snorts, and for some reason, this doesn’t even hurt the way it should. Yes, he is right. Rhys is stupid, uneducated, useless. Jack continues: “I would bet _Hyperion_ on my assumption that whatever you are thinking right now is bad, wrong. Am I right? What are you thinking?” He gently taps Rhys’ temple with one finger.

He can’t not answer, he already owes the man so much. “You get to keep Hyperion,” he answers, avoiding really revealing anything.

Jack sighs. “Rhysie... This wasn’t about you. I got caught up in work and avoided everyone, but I only really feel bad about forgetting about you.” Forgetting? Is it really that easy to forget Rhys? “No, scratch it. I didn’t _forget_. I kept thinking about you, but I never realised that you would already be awake. Wil says that I had thirty-two coffees. I didn’t feel tired, I didn’t notice so much time had passed. I thought that maybe I will arrive a little late, that I might not be there when you wake up the second time, but... It was apparently a little longer. I’m so sorry, Rhys.”

His mind works with different mechanics right now, and so it focuses on only one important thing. “How do you know it was the second time?” He needs to repeat the question, because his voice was too soft and Jack didn’t hear him. “How’d you know that I woke up once before that evening?”

“Well, I was there. I watched the surgery and waited until they successfully woke you up from the anaesthesia. It’s sometimes tricky, and I wanted to be sure,” he explains.

“Why? Why waste time?”

Jack frowns a little, but his face softens immediately. “You are not a waste of time, Rhys. You are important. I care about you, remember?”

Rhys wants to believe; he wants it so much to be true. Jack always says the right things, always helps Rhys feel better, be better. But not today. He still feels bad, even after Jack talked to him.

“I think you should go,” he says. “You’ve been here long enough. I need to sleep.”

“Rhys, I didn’t escape Angel’s attempts to imprison me in my own home and feed me so much I become a ball just to chat for a few minutes. I am here because I want to be here. Do you understand? If you want to sleep, just say it. I can lay with you, or I can sit in that chair. But I’m _not_ leaving you.”

Lay with him. Rhys always feels better when Jack lays with him. “Please.” It escapes his mouth before he can even think.

“Please what, kitten?” Jack gently pries.

“Please. Please, lay with me, Jack.” He doesn’t get to say more miserable words as Jack immediately springs into action, kicking his shoes off and walking around the bed so he can lay and hug Rhys from behind.

Rhys tries to relax into the contact, but it’s not warm, not warm enough, not what he needs, not what he expected. He should be happy now. He should be safe. He is so useless, can’t even be happy when he has everything he ever wanted.

His breath begins to quicken, and Rhys can feel himself shaking, but there is nothing he can do, or maybe he doesn’t want to change it, because at least he feels something different than numbness or self-loathing.

“Rhysie, tell me what’s wrong,” Jack speaks softly, like Rhys was just a startled animal, and it feels familiar in a bad way. “Do you want me to go? Tell me, please.”

“What’s wrong with me, Jack?” he sobs silently, only now realising that there are tears in his eyes. “Why am I not happy? I should be happy. I want to be happy. I’m _trying_ , but…”

“It’s the pills, baby,” Jack sighs behind him. He starts pressing kisses into Rhys’ hair and the soft spot behind his ear. “You aren’t taking the happy pills, and therefore you have bad thoughts. I’m sorry.”

“Do something, Jack,” he demands selfishly. “Please, do something. You always know what to do.”

“It’s only another three days, Rhysie,” Jack reminds him, voice strangely strained and muscles suddenly taut. “Then you take them, and it will soon be better.” But this is not what he wants to hear. He wants a miracle. “And until then, I can talk to you. What do you want to hear?”

Anything. Whatever makes the thoughts go away. “Anything,” he breaths out. “Just make it go away.”

“Have I told you how Angel lost her first tooth? Her mother almost killed me…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Angel's first tooth... It was Jack’s fault. He said that no-one would see it coming, even with the father reflexes, but we all know it was his fault. At least, beer wasn’t included…


	10. Chapter 10

Back at the mansion, Rhys is always either sleeping or talking with someone. Jack makes sure there is always someone, even overnight, to talk Rhys’ brains out if necessary. Anything to make him better.

At nights, it’s mostly Jack, doing paperwork while talking about wanting to do anything but paperwork. Rhys zones out when someone is talking to him. He lets Rhys – the unhappy person – disappear, and fills his head with the person who is talking. It’s like downloading an AI into his head to control him for a while, always a different model, affected by the story that is being told. Sometimes he nods along, sometimes he asks questions, sometimes he is completely still.

Even after being released from the hospital, he still needs to take the pain medicine, which makes it impossible to take his head medicine. He wants to say that he would rather endure the pain than suffer more of this, but when he sees the bruised, taut skin (it would soften with time, but they had to stretch it a lot to cover the area where flesh was previously missing, that was now filled with the neural interface), and the new, long scar mirroring his collar bone but on the other side of the shoulder, he realises that no, he doesn’t want to know how much that hurts.

Rhys begins to be suspicious when he wakes up with snoring Timothy in his room, sitting on a chair. He screams – no point denying it, because everybody must have heard it, even through the closed, possibly even soundproofed door – which in turn makes Timothy startle and scream.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, voice still high-pitched from the shock.

“I don’t really know,” Tim blurts out. “Jack told me to look after you while he goes to take care about some business. He told me that he told you before he left.”

“I don’t remember anything like that,” Rhys frowns. It’s still early morning. If Jack told him anything at three o’clock and supposed that he will remember it, he is apparently not as much of a genius as he thinks.

“Yeah, I figured that one out,” Tim sighs. “He said he doesn’t want you to wake up alone, but I wasn’t gonna sleep with you in your bed.”

They both exchange understanding looks that basically say: Jack is weird. Then, unable to sleep through the shock, they go and have breakfast. Then they play chess until Gaige comes to check on the new port, and then Axton talks to Rhys in lengths about the mansion’s security system (Rhys makes notes, because he supposes that’s the point – for him to make notes and try to improve it like with the power shield), and then Tim invites him to his room to discuss some short story he wrote, that is already perfect, but he just needs Rhys to asses it, and then there is another person, and another, and eventually, Rhys is sure that Jack ordered them to never leave him alone.

He feels more like a lunatic that he felt at the freaking asylum. As soon as Jack comes home, he goes and hides in the bathroom again, telling Angel who is tailing after him that he will be there for a while, to continue the board game without him.

It’s not long before there is a knock on the door anyway. “Rhys? Are you hiding from me again?”

“Aren’t you supposed to count to one hundred before you go and find me? What would you do if I was really shitting?” he asks grumpily.

“I dunno, cheer you on? I would be happy that you don’t feel the need to hide from me, just the other need. Now, can I come in?”

Rhys sighs loudly, and that is apparently an answer. Jack sits on the tub again, but this time, he begins to speak immediately. “So, have you seen Rhys yet?” he asks with a grin that is not one hundred percent.

“What?”

Jack turns his head towards the fish tank. Rhys needs only a few seconds to notice. There is a new fish. It’s silver, but as it swims and the light falls on its scales, it makes it look blue. There are also many scars on it.

“I was wondering,” Jack speaks again, “if the tank isn’t disturbing. Do they watch you pee, for example?”

Rhys rolls his eyes. “Actually, the golden one likes to hit his head on the glass when I’m around. I think that he is brain-damaged.”

“Hey! Little Jack is not brain-damaged!” Jack frowns. “This is what I get for buying Rhys?”

“Sorry. Thank you, Jack,” Rhys smiles weakly. It’s easy in that moment, but he knows his mood will go down in seconds.

“Let’s eat,” Jack suggests immediately, as if sensing the incoming storm. “I’m starving for lasagne. Wanna help me make it?”

Jack never needs help in the kitchen. “Actually,” Rhys stands up, “we need to talk about something.”

Jack’s face falls for a second before he regains composure. “Aw crap. Is it the morning? You said something vaguely approving, but I wasn’t sure, and I needed to go.”

“It’s not the morning,” Rhys shakes his head. “It’s the past days… Are you seriously having the whole house babying me? I can take care of myself. And I need alone time sometimes.”

Closing his eyes, Jack stands up. He just doesn’t look at Rhys as he speaks. “Pumpkin, this is not about babying you. I’m just worried,” he sighs. “You’ve been having bad thoughts lately, and I know that when you have bad thoughts, they might lead you to… hurt yourself.”

Rhys groans in annoyance. “ _Kill_ myself. They make me want to _kill_ myself, Jack. Is it so hard to say? Am I disturbing to you?”

“No, of course not,” Jack says, still calm next to the small storm of Rhys. “I was worried you might try to kill yourself on a bad moment when I’m not with you. So, I asked the others to help take your mind away from things.” He opens his eyes, suddenly seeing right through the younger man. “I was just worried. Is there anything bad about caring about you?”

“No, of course not,” Rhys shifts under the gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It will be over soon.” He walks over to Rhys and hugs him, pressing a kiss into his hair. “Tomorrow you will start taking your medicine again, and in a few days, it’s gonna be like you never stopped.”

Rhys sighs. “I want to believe you.”

* * *

Rhys is kept in darkness about more than one thing concerning him. While he starts taking his medicine again, not-so-patiently waiting for it to work (and by waiting he means spending the days curled into a ball either on the window or on some soft warm surface), his regular appointment with Maya nears.

Jack is aware of that, and he is aware of the depression that is taking its toll on the younger man. This leads to the fight.

“Jack, for God’s sake, don’t be an idiot!” Tim whisper-yells at him. Angel comes into the room, closing the door behind herself and crossing her arms on her chest, glaring at Jack. The three of them look all almost the same in that moment.

“Jack, seriously,” she scolds her father. “Out of all your bad ideas and bad habits at treating people you care about, this takes the cake. You can’t do this.” She keeps her calm during the fight in a Jack-like manner.

“You two teaming up on me now?” Jack snorts, avoiding the topic.

“No,” says Timothy.

“Yes,” says Angel at the same time. “This is what you wanted, after all, right? For us all to care about your new friend. So, now we all care about him, and we aren’t letting you do this.”

Jack glowers, but Tim is not done either. “He is depressed, Jack. He needs to see his therapist, because that’s the point of a therapist. She will be able to help him. You can’t lie your way out of a real depression. _You know that._ He needs help.”

“He needs us, not the asylum,” Jack growls. “Or is he an inconvenience to you all of a sudden? He’s your friend when you can push your stupid stories on him, or play video games with him,” he shortly scowls at his daughter, though he is determined to take his anger out on the twin, “but as soon as he needs you, you turn your back on him?”

“We are trying to help him, Jack,” Tim retorts, slowly losing his patience. “I can’t believe you, man! You know very well what depression can lead to, and you refuse the professionals to help him!”

“They can’t do more for him,” he says, voice a threatening growl, because Tim is nearing topics that shall never be discussed in this house. “He is taking medicine, and it will work soon enough. The depression will go in a few days, and then he can go to the fucking appointment. If he goes now, they will a) think that I forced him into the surgery in the first place, b) admit him into the asylum again, c) forbid us to see him, or d) all of the above. And I bet all my money it’s gonna be D.”

“So, you not being able to see him is worse than him being dead?” Angel deadpans. “Jack— Dad, listen to yourself. He needs you to get him help, not protect him from it.”

The CEO almost bucks under his daughter’s piercing blue eyes, but he can’t lose him. “No. But them putting him into an asylum is more likely to cause him to try something. Or worse, just plain break him, make him into one of the zombies that are on too many drugs. I won’t let it. I know what he needs, and that is time and someone to care about him. Nothing more, nothing less.”

He walks towards the door, Angel moving away to let him. Before he leaves, he turns to the two and gives them one last warning glare. “This discussion is over. I’ve decided. Whoever doesn’t like it, feel free to find a different place to live.”

* * *

“Hey, pumpkin,” Jack walks into his room, finding Rhys exactly where Axton left him – on the window, wrapped in a blanket. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” Rhys answers. A sharper intake of breath gets his attention, and he turns his head towards Jack. The older man looks all riled up, ready to snap, but it’s definitely not because of Rhys, because his face relaxes slightly when their eyes meet. “How are you, though?” he asks and stands up, dropping the blanket to reveal yesterday’s clothes.

“Just had to deal with… not-stupid people acting stupid. That’s all,” Jack assures him. Rhys mostly ignores him and walks up behind him to hug him in the way that helps. Jack sighs, leaning into it. “I want you in my office, Rhysie. Because this – this is gold. I would fire twenty— no, fifty percent less people if you hugged me like this during my calls.”

Rhys chuckles, though it’s more of a reflex than a sincere reaction. “All you need to do is take me to work with you. The shoulder doesn’t hurt that much anymore, so I’m ready.”

Jack stiffens momentarily before relaxing again. “Not before you are completely fine, kitten. I don’t want to put the stress on you. But as soon as you are well, maybe when you get that arm, I’m waking you up at four every morning and taking you with me, okay?”

“No,” Rhys pulls away. “Of course it’s not okay, Jack. I’m sure that would kill me more than any suicide could,” he makes an offended face, barely containing a smirk at Jack’s confusion. “Four in the morning? Only vampires and psychopaths get up that early. No way.” He lets out a laugh when realisation visibly hits Jack.

“Oh, you little shit!” he lunges at the younger man, pressing him against the nearest wall to tickle him. “Playing with my feelings, testing my patience like this,” he mumbles as he holds Rhys in place with one arm pressed at his chest and runs the other hand on his ribs and side. “I’ll make sure you forget what your name is, and how to be sarcastic, when I’m done with you.”

“Jack— Stop!” Rhys chokes out through laughter. “Please, I can’t— Can’t breathe!”

Jack lets go of him, grinning down at him while Rhys catches his breath. He looks like he is really smiling right now, not just out of reflex, and that is good.

“I actually came here to tell you something important,” Jack remembers. “Maya called about your appointment, and I told her that you aren’t feeling well yet. We rescheduled it for the next Thursday. Is it okay?”

“Yeah, I don’t have any plans on Thursday,” Rhys shrugs. “But you are lucky you didn’t pick Wednesday.”

“Why?” Jack frowns in confusion.

“That’s when I sit and come up with all the snarky and sarcastic comments, and the ways to play you like a violin.” He sticks out his tongue to add to that, and then he dodges another tickling attack. The meds are really doing weird things to him today, but it’s better than the empty darkness.

* * *

Installing the arm was rescheduled too, though only by a couple days. Rhys was feeling a slightly better, or he got better at telling himself that he is happy long enough to believe it, and so he was almost a little excited when Gaige came in with a yellow box in arms.

“Don’t be so excited, pumpkin,” Jack calmed him. “Gaige already told you that it might take months until you learn to use its full potential.”

“I know,” he sighed. “But I can’t help it. It’s a cybernetic arm, Jack! I wish Vaughn could see it.”

“You haven’t seen it yet,” Jack points out. “So, let’s change that, first.” He takes the box from the girl and caries it to the living room. He places it on the coffee table and opens it.

“ _Whoa_.”

Jack chuckles while Gaige looks smug. “I had to go for a basic and easy design with this one,” she explains, “but I did my best. And I promise the next one is gonna be spectacular!”

“I can’t imagine anything more awesome than this,” Rhys gapes at the arm. It looks so cool, and he is pleased when he recognises the design of the joints from one of the books he read lately. “Can I put it on?”

“No, put it on your wall and stare at it,” she rolls her eyes at him theatrically.

“I can imagine doing that,” he retorts.

“Alright, let’s put this on,” Jack takes hold of the arm. “Sit, and strip your shirt, pumpkin.”

“Ew!” Gaige makes a noise. “Don’t call him like that when you say something like that.” She seems not very scared of her boss, come to think about it. Not many would dare to talk to him like this.

“You are so lucky you are a kid, and smart,” Jack snarls at her. Meanwhile, Rhys has stripped of his t-shirt. “May I have the honour?” Jack asks with a smirk.

“Just do it, finally,” Rhys rolls his eyes.

Jack frowns for a little, but then he focuses on connecting the wiring of the arm to the port. His big fingers are deft in doing so, and he is quick about it. It’s no surprise after all the awesome massages Rhys received from these hands. He blushes at the thought.

There is a clanking sound as the shoulder joint is snapped into place and then whirring as the arm starts booting automatically. Jack steps back. “Done.”

Gaige takes over for a while, connecting the arm to her echopad for one last setup, and when she disconnects, it’s apparently up to Rhys to do something.

He can’t.

“Don’t rush it, Rhys,” Jack reminds him as if reading his thoughts immediately. “It might—”

“Did you see that?!” Rhys gasps, mouth spreading in a wide, excited grin.

Jack and Gaige exchange a look. “No,” Jack answers. “What should we see?” Rhys is watching his arm closely, as if waiting for something to happen.

“Watch the elbow,” he instructs them. He focuses, almost painfully hard for such a simple task, and the arm moves slightly. He is trying to rise it, but only thing he gets for now is moving the elbow a little. Still, he grins when he manages to do that again and again, basically wiggling his upper arm. “I’m moving my arm, Jack!”

“That’s great,” Jack smiles at him softly, though he schools his expression when he remembers the teenager here. She is also the reason he is wearing glasses today.

“Okay, so, let’s try some exercises,” Gaige comes to sit next to Rhys. She walks him through the maintenance process and what will basically be his physical therapy. She tells him what to do to help his nerves adjust quicker, and how to recognise when he is straining them too much and needs to take the arm off.

Rhys hopes Jack knows all of it, because he only half pays attention. He is too fascinated by his elbow now moving a little forward and back, too, not just right and back.

When Gaige leaves, Jack helps him put the shirt back on and they both walk through the halls of the mansion, because that’s an important part of the physical therapy. His body needs to learn to carry a weight on the right side of his spine again.

Rhys is grinning the entire time, even when his back starts hurting and his new shoulder burns. He shows the arm off to everybody they meet in the hallways, and when Jack suggests walking in the huge but boring garden around the mansion, he makes sure all of the guards on positions see it. Jack only teases him a little about it.

“Are you preparing for your next job as a cybernetics model?” he taunts.

Rhys pouts, but then he is grinning again. Especially when the man who is teasing him changes his attitude completely as two huge dogs run to him.

They need to take the arm off after two hours, Rhys managing to do so on his own, with Jack’s guidance. Rhys almost never stops talking about it at dinner, bothering anyone who is willing to listen.

He is incredibly grateful when Jack comes into his room with a tube of body oil, later. The older man works all the pain in his shoulder and upper back away, and then goes on for a little longer, once more turning Rhys into a content mush.


	11. Chapter 11

Each day brings only a little improvement, but Rhys is ecstatic anyway. He can only wear the arm for two hours a day, so he enjoys every second of it. He focuses on what he had started, slowly getting his arm to rise. There is no control in his forearm or beyond, but he doesn’t care about the weird limpness of it, dangling off his raised upper arm.

He finds a way to eventually speed the process up. He performs the move with his left arm first, focuses on the way it feels, then tries to imagine it happening on his right side too. It works… sometimes. But that’s more often than never, right?

His excitement burns over the depression like scorching sun, and even shines through his guilt and shyness. That’s mostly because Jack looks beyond happy when he sees Rhys being happy and over the moon about his arm. And Rhys supposes that if Jack is doing this for his own happiness, then it’s alright to take advantage, right?

He keeps reading up on things he thinks might come in handy in the future, and he begins to feel more confident. Joining Angel’s lessons with either Scooter, Ellie or Moxxi (whoever it is and whatever they teach) still doesn’t sound like a good idea to him, though.

When his appointment finally comes, Rhys vehemently demands to be allowed to wear his arm, just so he can use it to wave at Maya in greeting in his clumsy, limp way. He doesn’t even remember what they talk about, but he is sure most of it is about pizza parties and the arm.

That day, when they eat dinner, Rhys is asked how his appointment went. When he tells Tim that it was good, nothing special, everybody just sort of leaves. Some subtly, some (Angel) just plain out pick up their plate and go to the living room.

While Rhys is left blinking in confusion, Jack is smirking, his face victorious. He made that pose again, the one Rhys thinks is used on meetings with other companies’ representatives. The one of someone who knows exactly what he is doing as he crushes his competition.

When they are the only two left at the table, Rhys turns to Jack, question in his face. The CEO’s expression falls a little.

“What was that about?” Rhys inquires. “Did I say something?”

“No, of course not,” Jack reassures him. “This was, ehm, my fault. Something between me, Tim and Angel. And apparently the rest of the house, without my knowledge.”

Rhys would like to ask for more specific information, but he feels like it’s not his place. Jack loses his appetite a minute later, and he leaves to his home office to work. Rhys wonders if this means he is gonna be alone this evening, with no-one willing to talk to him. They’d had moments like this with his friends before life went to shit. Usually after fighting about a movie or a game. Jack’s family probably has completely different reasons to fight, but one thing won’t change – they will make peace before the next dinner.

Rhys decides to go to the home library, which became his little office-slash-study by this point, as there is a huge stash of his papers and notes, and everybody knows to come looking for him here. He decides to look at the mansion’s security plan again. He’s had it drawn out and made a few notes to the points he thinks might be weak.

He doesn’t get much work done before there is a knock on the door. “Rhys? Are you working, or do you have time?”

It’s Tim. “Yeah,” Rhys answers, coming to open the door. “You are aware that this isn’t my room or anything, right?” he chuckles.

Timothy blushes a little. “Yeah, I know. But it feels like it,” he gestures towards Rhys’ work everywhere. “Anyway, I was thinking… Our birthday is coming soon, as well as Angel’s, because she was born one day after mine and Jack’s birthday, and I thought… Could I discuss my gift ideas with you?”

“Uh, sure,” Rhys shrugs. “But I’m probably not the right person. I didn’t even know… When is the birthday?”

“In fifteen and sixteen days,” Tim says. “I should have started earlier. And I doubted you would know. Jack doesn’t like celebrating his birthday. But he loves the gifts.”

They both chuckle, and Tim leads Rhys to his room. Rhys wants to jokingly ask if Wilhelm’s going to kill him later, but the two are still pretending that nothing is happening, and he is respectful of that.

“So,” Tim says as they sit on the regular place, “for Jack I have a few ideas. For Angel I have one, but I’m not sure yet. Maybe I will wait another year for her eighteenth birthday and only give her something small this time.”

Rhys knows an opportunity when he sees one. “And what number do you and Jack celebrate, anyway?” he asks casually.

Tim chuckles. “Good try,” he lets the younger man down. “Jack would kill me if I told you. And he’d know it was me.”

Slightly blushing, Rhys tries to save his dignity and change the topic. “So, what do you have for Angel? Something big?”

“Yeah,” Tim grins. From a locked drawer he pulls out a stack of papers. “It’s a story book. I know she is not little anymore, but I thought she might appreciate learning something about her father.”

This definitely catches Rhys’ attention. “About Jack?” he asks as he makes to grab the stack.

Tim moves it away. “Don’t ever tell Jack, okay?” he makes Rhys promise before he hands it to him.

It’s a lot of stories, Rhys can tell. There are almost two hundred papers, and most are fully covered by the small printing. It might be well close to half a million words.

“ _The Uneasy Journey of Bears Mr Grumpy and Mr Fluffy_?” Rhys reads the title. “Can I guess? Jack is Grumpy?” He chuckles as Tim rolls his eyes and nods. Then he reads into a random story. Then another.

“Uhm, so, what do you think?” Tim asks.

Rhys realises that he’s read a lot more than a small sample already. “Uh, sorry,” he pushes the papers away, so they don’t tempt him. “It was really nice, and I didn’t realise…” He frowns at the clock on Tim’s nightstand. It’s been forty-five minutes. “You should have stopped me.”

“It’s alright,” Tim smiles. “You seemed to like it. And I’ve been busy myself.” He proceeds to show Rhys a few doodles of little bears. One is slightly fluffier, and the second is scowling. “I’ll have some drawings commissioned for the final print, and I wanted to have something to show the artist,” he explains.

“Do you think it’s good enough?” he asks Rhys. “For Angel?”

Rhys thinks carefully of an answer. The few stories he’d read didn’t say much about Tim and Jack’s past, but there was another, deeper thought conveyed. “No,” he says slowly. “I’m not sure it would be good as a gift for her.”

Tim’s shoulders slouch a little. “Oh…”

“Tim,” Rhys can’t but halt his speech every few words, feeling like this is not really his place to speak. But he knows something that the twin doesn’t.

Rhys had been in Jack’s room once more after Jack showed him. He sent Rhys to fetch the massaging oil while taking an emergency call suddenly just as he was about to help him with the shoulder. Rhys tried to walk straight to the nightstand where it was supposed to be and not stare at anything, but the nightstand on the other side of the bed caught his attention.

There was a stack of books, and papers tied together much the same way as the WIPs Tim lent Rhys. They were all Tim’s stories and books, and they all looked well-worn. As if Jack read them regularly.

To top it off, some of the hardbacks weren’t even official publications. Jack must have gotten hold of some of Tim’s documents with stories and got them printed out himself. They had funny names, like _Tim-Tam’s Sci-fi Thingy_ , or even _Don’t Ask What I’m Reading, Meg, Or You Are Fired._

Jack loves Tim’s stories – that’s the conclusion.

“Tim, I think you should print it out and give it to Jack,” Rhys says, back in the present. “And I think you should make it more obvious, too. Mr Grumpy and Mr Fluffy sounds fine, and we all know that Jack is a grumpy ass, and you are his softer version, but this just looks like you are trying to hide what this is about.”

“Because I _am_ trying to hide what this is about,” Tim raises an eyebrow on him. “If Jack finds out I’m writing about our past, he will burn the thing.”

“He won’t,” Rhys assures him. He reaches for the papers again, tries to find the pages he read previously, but can’t, and so he just makes a wild gesture towards the stack. “He will love it, trust me. There was the line… Something like, _Mr Fluffy fell asleep easily, because his hero was by his side, his big bear brother_. He will love it, trust me.”

The twin still looks sceptic. “So, what exactly do you think I should do?”

“Make it obvious,” Rhys says with an encouraging smile. “Make it obvious that this is about you. Name the characters accordingly, name the places so he has no other option than to recognise them. Give it to him. Don’t say anything.”

Tim contemplates him. “How’d you know this will work out good?” he asks carefully.

Rhys can’t tell him the truth, and so he chooses a half-lie. “We talk a lot.”

The twin chuckles. “Yes, you do. Okay, I’m gonna believe you.” He looks at his work and sighs. “Guess I’ll have a lot of work for the next few days. And I don’t have anything for Angel, now.”

“Oh, how about something practical? She showed me blueprints of some robot she is building, and I know what could come in handy for that,” he suggests. It’s not like he would be able to buy it for her, and Jack wouldn’t know she needs it, so this is the best way to ensure she gets what she needs.

“Wow, Rhys, where were you all my life? I will hire you as my professional advisor or something,” Tim chuckles. “Thank you. Could you write it down for me?”

“Sure,” Rhys smiles and takes a paper and a pen from Tim. “Just… Do you have anything heavy? I need a paperweight,” he looks down, slightly embarrassed, and waits for Tim to give him a huge book.

He writes down everything he thinks Angel might need, and then gives the paper to Tim, who is writing down ideas. Rhys catches a glace of his notes, and he smiles at _Mr Fluffy, Mr Grumpy - > Theodor, Johnathan._

“I’ll go now,” Rhys gets up. Tim hums a bye, already deep in thought.

Back in the library room, Rhys sighs and rubs his face. Fifteen days to come up with something. Before he can start pondering on what will he give the three, there is a knock on the door and Jack walks in.

Rhys wants to laugh, but he has no idea how he would explain what’s funny about the situation, and so he swallows the giggles. “Can I help you?” he asks.

“Yes, actually yes,” Jack nods. “Come to my office.”

Rhys follows Jack one floor higher to the room that he uses as home office. It’s messy and cosy. There are papers everywhere. The desk, floor, sofa, shelves – everything is covered in work. Papers, folders, blueprints. And also, a lot of dust.

“Tassiter is not allowed here?” Rhys asks curiously as he stands in front of the desk while Jack sits in his chair.

“Nobody is,” Jack shrugs. He doesn’t really pay attention to Rhys, staring into distance and tapping his chin in thought.

“So, uhm,” Rhys clears his throat. “Why am I here?”

“Ah, yes,” Jack shakes his head and snaps into focus. “Angel’s birthday is in sixteen days. She will be seventeen, and I need your help. You are younger, closer to her than I am… What would she want?”

Rhys facepalms himself hard and groans. “Are you kidding me?”

When he looks through his fingers, Jack is looking at him curiously. He raises an eyebrow at him in question, amused smirk tugging his lips up.

“I just gave Timothy all my tips,” Rhys explains.

The amusement disappears, and Jack groans. “Fuck!”

“Language,” Rhys chastise jokingly, but he receives a hard glare. He sighs. “Okay, let’s think up something else…” He starts pacing the room slowly, carefully stepping over the work on the floor. “Clothes and money are a no. Tim is giving her a practical gift. How about… a party?” Rhys suggests.

Jack looks at him like he is an idiot. “Of course there will be a party.”

Rhys shakes his head. “With all her friends?”

Jack frowns, slowly realising what Rhys is suggesting. “No. And no. I’m not letting any strangers in. She knows most of them from the echonet; no way am I allowing them near her.”

Rhys folds his arm over his chest. “This is all I have for you.”

“That’s not much,” Jack scoffs.

“Well, I’m not her father. I’m her… friend, I guess. And I think she would appreciate having a party with her friends. All of them.”

Jack groans. “Think up something else.”

“No.”

Another groan. If Angel is seventeen, Jack has to be at least thirty-seven, right? It’s like it’s the other way around. Angel acts like a teenager too, but much less.

“You can still be the terrible kind of father and give her toys. A doll or a stuffed unicorn or something. Everyone will understand; fathers are like that, in denial that their little girl is growing up.” He was like that too towards his sisters. Fiona almost killed him with the toy tea party set he gave her when she was eleven.

He can see that Jack is fighting with himself inwardly. “Fine,” he says finally. “Okay. I’ll set something up.”

Rhys smiles. “You won’t regret it,” he promises. “Unless some of them really turn out to be terrorists and try to kill you… I’m not helping right now, am I?” he chuckles nervously.

“No, you are not,” Jack deadpans. “Now, off you go. I’ll be in your room in twenty.”

Jack comes to his room forty minutes later to massage his shoulder and give him the vitamin pill.

* * *

The next evening, Rhys contemplates visiting Jack’s small gym that should be somewhere in the house, because he spent the whole day pacing and trying to think something up, and his legs hurt from all the walking. And that’s really pathetic. Not in the I-hate-myself way pathetic, but just sad.

He came up with a gift for Angel quickly. She was hesitant about beginning to work on the AI for the robot she is building, because it’s not so much of her field. Rhys loved programming back in school, and so he creates a draft for the AI. It’s unspecific, more like a Create Your Own AI guide. He knows Angel will be able to understand it, so he doesn’t bother with detailed descriptions of the sections, and instead just creates more sections with each idea. In the end, he basically has an AI program written on paper in shortcuts. It’s not code, but writing the code with this in hand will be easy enough.

As for Jack, though… Rhys is afraid there is nothing he can do for him. What can he give to the man who gave him everything and asked nothing in return?

Hoping that it will help him understand Jack more, he asks him to start bringing Rhys along to the office. And so, Rhys becomes a working man.

It’s still mostly about him pretending to be working. He learns something new with every stuttering employee that comes in, and he is quickly catching up on what are Hyperion’s currently most important deals and products. But he can’t go to meetings with Jack yet, he can’t manage his calls, can’t filter his emails.

Sometimes, Jack consults some blueprints with him, but usually it’s about Jack explaining things to Rhys until one of them give up. Only rarely does Rhys truly understand what he is looking at. But he is learning.

He is allowed to wear the cybernetic arm for four hours a day, now. Two in the morning and two in the afternoon. He is slowly progressing towards more control of the appendage. He now has full control of his shoulder and random control of his forearm and hand. Random as if he can do only certain, random things.

For example, one day he manages to wave at Meg, Jack’s secretary, in a normal person way, and since then, he can move his wrist left to right and the other way around. It’s like he suddenly remembered how to do that. But when he wants to wave his hand forward and backward, like children do, he can’t bring the stupid thing to move at all.

One day, he starts tapping his forefinger on the desk as he waits for Jack to finish a call, and only the CEO’s surprised gaze makes him realise that.

The best thing is flipping Jack off. Whenever someone asks Rhys what he likes about having two hands again, this is what he says. Flipping Jack off with a Hyperion brand cybernetic arm.

It’s not sudden at all. Rhys had been trying to do it for a week before he finally succeeded. Jack is still a sarcastic ass, so there are plenty of reasons to want to do that, especially when Rhys is working with him now. He keeps trying to bring his right hand into a fist, but he only manages to make the fingers twitch. He does the thing when he closes his eyes, does the movement with his left hand, then imagines doing it with his right, feeling the cybernetic joints move, but nothing happens, and he eventually pushes it away as one of the movements he won’t be able to do anytime soon.

Then it’s Monday, Rhys is sleeping on his desk as almost every day for the past week, and Jack is making a jab that if all that Rhys wanted was to be able to sleep with Jack, all he had to do was ask. And then the younger man’s arms are moving, and he is giving Jack a double flip-off.

He looks up to his hands surprised and grins, while Jack bursts out laughing. “Thought you couldn’t figure out how to do a fist,” he points out.

“Well, technically, this is not a fist,” Rhys says, grinning as he memorises the feeling of the feedback he gets from the hand, so he can do it again when he relaxes his fingers. As always, it’s easy on the second try, as if he never forgot how to use the “muscles”.

Rhys’ intention to find out what would make Jack happy on his birthday, however, doesn’t yield anything. Watching the CEO’s daily habits only tells him that he drinks a lot of coffee, eats surprisingly healthy, moves a lot during the day. He is the picture of a perfect businessman, and hot, too, but there is nothing personal in his work. It’s all just business to him.

Rhys sighs as he is left alone in the office while Jack is visiting accounting. He texts Vaughn a quick warning, and then he walks around the office.

Jack has a photo of Angel when she was younger on his desk, but along with three empty coffee cups it’s the only personal thing there. The chair speaks a lot about Jack’s personality, but it doesn’t help with coming up with a gift.

There’s the sitting area Jack uses for naps, lunches or more important meetings with investors and other companies’ reps. It looks like a room taken out of the mansion, but that also can’t be used to come up with a gift.

Then there is the shelf. Rhys stops in front of it. His gaze as always falls to the Vision. The gun that came into production when Hyperion started the war in Pandora. There is also a certificate that gives Jack rights to Atlas, a Pandoran company Jack crushed not long ago. Also, a newspaper article talking about how Hyperion crushed Dahl.

There are Jack’s inventions, plans and—

Rhys’ eyes travel back to a small draft of a city. Opportunity. Jack has talked about it a few times. His own project. A Hyperion city full of modern technology, offices, laboratories, testing sites and housing for the employees. Something like Helios, but even more Hyperion. Jack basically took over Helios when he destroyed Dahl and took over the company, but Opportunity would be just his.

This, finally, gives Rhys an idea. He will have to be careful about it, though. Jack doesn’t want to tell anybody about the plan before it’s finished.

Rhys is no hacker, but he is a thief. Or, former thief. He can’t steal the blueprints he would need from Jack’s computer, but he can replace the ones on the shelf with similarly looking papers and he can also sneak into Jack’s home office and take some off the mess on the floor.

He feels like a villain scheming their evil plan, and he likes the feeling.

* * *

Rhys is quite proud of himself that he is able to go to the office with Jack, work on his three little gift projects, and not die of exhaustion. The idea of adding gym to his daily schedule, however, is quickly forgotten.

His days consist of getting up early, sneaking work to work (usually the AI draft that keeps growing), then sneaking it out. After dinner he usually works on his project for Jack, hidden in the library, and then, when everybody is asleep, he sneaks into the living room, where there is a piano, and plays for fifteen minutes.

He is not sure what he is playing, but he knows that it is all he can do for Tim, because he can’t impress the twin with his other talents. He’s heard him humming this melody, like a lullaby, several times when he thought no-one can hear him. (It was proven previously that Timothy’s attempts at sneakiness almost never work out.) Tim always stops at a certain part, sighs, and starts again. Rhys, used to improvising where he is not sure about a song, was able to complete the tune. In a fucking-five-fingers manner, but he is sure Tim won’t mind. He’d also written the notes down, so anyone can play it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made the thing about Vision up, but I'm proud of it. ^-^
> 
> Also, this chapter should've been a part of the next, and the cut is violent and bleeding, because I didn't polish it. Sorry. My laziness.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might have more mistakes and typos than usually, because I didn't have the time and will to go through it. Sorry!

When the day of the birthday party comes, Jack gives Rhys a day off, because it’s obvious that he is lacking sleep. So, in the end, Rhys won’t even look like a zombie at the party. He will, however, look like he doesn’t belong, because he doesn’t own a suit, just a few nice shirts Jack bought him and two pairs of trousers. It’s his fault, obviously, because Jack had offered to buy him something nicer many times, but Rhys refused.

Now he regrets it as he chooses between plain shirts and two almost identical trousers.

“You done yet?” Jack comes into his room, fully dressed in something that is halfway between his usual work clothes and a suit. Also, halfway between bronze and gold, and Rhys gapes at the man for a while. The young man is sure that never before was anyone able to pull off a gold-bronze waistcoat with royal pattern, but Jack can apparently rock anything. The rest of the suit is less extravagant, but gaping-worthy anyway.

“See something you like, pumpkin?” Jack chuckles.

Rhys has enough dignity to not blurt out yes, and he even manages to save a little of his image by saying: “That’s a really nice suit.” Like he wasn’t staring at the man in it.

“While yours looks a little… revealing,” Jack points out. Rhys is still in his boxers and an old t-shirt that is so stretched that it slips off his shoulder.

“I don’t know what to wear,” Rhys sighs. “I should have accepted your offer of a proper suit when there was the time.”

Jack chuckles. “Yes, you should. But now, the newer pants and the dark blue shirt will have to do,” he decides. “I’ll lend you a tie. Or a bow-tie? Yeah, that would be better.” He disappears, and Rhys quickly puts on the newer trousers and the dress shirt. He is halfway through buttoning it up when Jack comes back with a bow-tie.

“Can I help you with that?” he asks.

“No,” Rhys answers out of reflex. He hates his disability, but that doesn’t mean he needs help with buttons. Jack patiently waits until he is finished, and then he ties the bow for him.

“There,” he smoothens it out for the last time. He then takes an offered safety pin from Rhys and helps him fold the empty sleeve up and secure it in place.

“We should go,” he decides when he gives Rhys one last once-over, and they walk down the stairs together. Rhys makes sure Jack has no chance to peek into the gift bags he is carrying. “Everybody else has left already.”

“Left?” Rhys asks dumbly. “It’s not gonna be here?”

Jack chuckles. “No, of course not. I’m not letting strange people into this house. I’ve had a nice restaurant booked for this night.”

“Oh,” Rhys says. “But that means I don’t have a present for Timothy…”

Jack stops. “How’d you know— Dammit. Little bastard!”

It’s Rhys’ turn to chuckle. “He didn’t tell me the number, if it helps you feel better,” he assures Jack. “You were really planning to not tell me that it’s your party too?”

“It’s Angel’s party,” Jack corrects him. “Everybody is just stupid and brings presents for me too.”

“So, you don’t have a gift for Tim?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Jack is silent for a second. “That’s different.”

Rhys laughs. “You are a walking cliché, Jack.”

* * *

Rhys and Jack drive one of Jack’s cars – one Rhys had never seen before. It looks as expensive as can be and it’s yellow, with black and yellow stripes. The roar of the engine sends goosebumps down Rhys’ body, and he involuntarily smirks as they drive off. That’s one nice car indeed.

As they drive through the city, Jack carefully asks Rhys if he can ask a question. The amount of worry in Jack’s voice makes Rhys contemplate denying, but he is a curious cat. “Go on,” he encourages.

“How do you feel about driving? I have a few cars that can easily be controlled with one arm, and you will have two arms full-time soon, anyway…” He keeps giving the man in the passenger seat nervous glances while Rhys forms his answer.

“I don’t think I want to drive ever again. But thank you.”

“Yeah, thought so. Thank you for answering,” he winks at Rhys, which he only sees because his forehead moves above the glasses he is wearing.

They arrive a few minutes later, and Jack growls in warning at the poor man who takes his car keys and carefully drives it into garage. Then, they walk into the most expensive restaurant Rhys had ever seen. Booking it for the night must have cost a lot.

The place is full of Jack’s bodyguards, with Axton standing by the front door and Wilhelm by the door to the hall where the party is held. There are only four nervous waiters, nobody else, and Rhys hopes none of them will collapse because of the stress, because Jack has apparently invited everybody he could think of. There is a lot of people.

He recognises some of them, and supposes that the younger ones are Angel’s friends, and the older ones Jack or Tim’s. He is suddenly glad that he won’t be able to play the piano here, because there is a lot of people sane enough to know that he is not that good, with his fucking five fingers.

“Jack! Finally!” Timothy comes to rush them in. “Everybody is here already,” he scolds his brother while Jack ignores him and searches the area for some non-alcoholic beverage. He takes hold of a glass of water with mint and lemon, and finally begins to look around.

“Oh, and Janey and Athena got married, did you know?” Tim continues to ramble, and Jack suddenly starts coughing and sputtering. “You did not,” Tim notes with a smile. “They are perfect.”

Rhys eventually wanders off, looking around the hall at all the people, the food and drinks that are offered. A nice young waiter offers him a drink, and when he refuses, saying that he can’t drink alcohol, the man puts the tray of champagne down, runs off and brings a glass of a non-alcoholic drink. This gesture makes Rhys admittedly blush and flatter.

“My name is John,” the waiter tells him with a shy smile. There is a playful spark in his brown eyes, and Rhys admits to himself that the man is really nice. “Boring name, I know,” he continues, “but I can promise I’m not boring. Do you want me to show you what food to try first?”

Rhys chuckles. “Unless you wanna feed me, not before I drink this,” he looks at the sweet drink in his hand. “I don’t wanna be putting it down every time I want to try something.”

John doesn’t even look at his arm, and he blushes at his comment. “Yeah, sorry. It can wait.”

Rhys is slightly taller than the man, and when John bows his head to hide the blush, he feels strange warmth in his stomach. Is John flirting with him? That seems like a bad idea.

“Tell me, how did you know that I’m new to this world?” he gestures towards the people in fancy clothes and tables full of food. “Do I look that bad?”

“N-no, no!” John stutters. “You look good! It’s just— I know the helpless look too well. You’d be surprised how often the rich assholes take random people off the street here to impress them, without telling them about where they are going, and then they are sad and nervous, and I just can’t stand it,” he rambles.

“So, you take pity in them?”

“Well, yes,” John admits. “I try to. But this is not about pity!”

Rhys raises an eyebrow. “And what is it about this time?” he asks, taking a sip from the glass, letting it press on his lower lip a little longer than needed.

“W-w-well,” John stutters. Rhys can’t but feel smug at the effect he has on the man. He will maybe feel bad later, because he definitely isn’t planning anything, and he is not interested in _this_ John, but for now, a little bit of fun...

“Rhysie, here you are, pumpkin!” Jack suddenly appears beside him. He is holding a new drink, something colourful that smells fruity. “There are so many people I want you to meet, and you are making friends with staff. Aren’t you precious…” He pulls Rhys away, towards the nearest person he _needs_ to meet.

After being introduced to three random people that all give him weird looks, Rhys tugs at his hand that Jack is using to lead him to another person. “Jack!” he calls out when the man ignores the gesture. When he gets his attention and they stop, he asks: “What is this about?”

“What?” Jack asks, looking taken aback.

“I have no idea who Lady Hammerlock, Moxxi or Zed Rogers are, and I especially don’t know why should I change that. What’s the point of this?” He tries to not look too agitated or too ungrateful, because it’s obvious Jack is just trying to further make him a part of his life, but this is plain weird. Especially the stares.

Jack lets go of his hand and takes a small step back, creating more space. “I…” he trails off. He is silent for another minute, and then he is saved by Tim.

“Here you are! I thought this would be the right time to give Angel the presents, and you should be first,” he nudges Jack away.

As soon as Jack is gone, John appears next to Rhys with another sweet drink. He accepts it graciously. “Thank you. I could use a drink or two now, but this will do.” He takes a sip, trying to persuade his brain that it is alcohol.

“Yeah, you looked like you needed one,” John agrees. “But now I can’t show you around. I need to plan my moves one step ahead, it seems,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, but we have time, now. Look how many people there are. I’ll go last. Meanwhile, we can eat all the food,” he jokes. But then he sees Gaige storming towards him.

“What are you doing here, dumbass?” she scolds him as she takes the drink from him and pulls him towards Angel. “You should be there with Jack, Tim, and the rest of her family! Or do you want to make Angel sad on her birthday?!”

He doesn’t understand Gaige’s agitation at all, but he doesn’t dare to not oblige. He makes a quick stop by the table where he left the present and lets himself be pushed in front of smiling, visibly very amused, Angel.

“So, uhm, happy birthday!” he says. “Can’t shake your hand, and can’t kiss you, because I don’t want to die and Jack is watching, so you’ll have to just accept the gift.”

“Oh, shut up!” she rolls her eyes and carefully hugs him with her right arm, not touching the right side of his body. “What is it?” she asks as she peeks into the bag.

“Surprise,” he winks at her. “You’ll figure it out.”

Rhys joins Jack and Tim who are standing off to the side and watches Angel talk to her friends and receive gifts. She looks happy, and he feels a little proud of himself, because he knows that he helped.

He chuckles when it’s Gaige’s turn to give Angel a small envelope and a kiss that… it’s not a kiss a friend would give to a friend. When he looks to the side at Jack, the older man is holding a hand over his eyes, shaking his head and muttering: “Is there no-one in my fucking house who is straight?”

“Who of you two knew?” he looks at Rhys, and then at Timothy, blaming. They both shake their heads and muffle laughter at the father.

Rhys is free to roam the party again, and he lets John show him all the good food and drinks. He is occasionally stopped by someone to chat, the most memorable person being Angel, who runs to him jumping happily and throws her arms around his neck so fiercely that he stumbles backwards.

“Thank you! Rhys, it’s amazing! Thank you, thank you so much! Did you make it? How?” She doesn’t let him speak for several moments, repeating the same thanks’ over and over. “Thanks to you I’ll be able to give the robot an AI! Thank you!”

He pats her back while she keeps hugging him and muttering happily, and then he explains. “I really liked programming back in school and plans like the one I gave you are really helpful. You mentioned being unsure about the AI, and so I helped it little. I bet you will nail it from here.”

She runs off, and Jack comes instead. “Good move, Rhys,” he praises. “Seems like you know her well.”

“I just listened,” he shrugs.

Jack scoffs. “Well, good job. You saved me and Tim, and even managed to trump us.”

“I doubt I trumped you,” Rhys squirms under the compliment. “It’s just a make-your-own-gift guide, nothing real, like a party or—”

Jack’s chuckle interrupts him. “Just accept the compliment, geeze. Now, let’s loosen up a bit, okay? Let’s dance!”

Rhys frowns, looking around. “Jack, I can’t dance. Besides, there is no music anyway.”

As if on cue, music starts playing, and Rhys groans while Jack erupts into fits of laughter. “Oh, I couldn’t have planned that better, could I?” He drags Rhys to the middle of the room where people, mostly the youngest ones, already started dancing.

“Isn’t it too early to dance?” Rhys tries to stay rooted in place, but Jack just drags him anyway.

“Well, it might be, but a) I’m not letting the kids drink, and b) I’m handing them back to their parents at ten, no later. So, it’s the right time for them.”

Rhys rolls his eyes. So, Jack’s paranoia about Angel’s safety didn’t subside. Rhys begins to wonder how did the teenager even get Axton to take her to the hospital to visit Rhys. Getting out of the house is impossible, even if you know the security well.

“So, we have thirty-eight minutes to dance, and then what?” Rhys begins to give in as Jack starts swaying along the music.

“Then it’s a private party,” Jack shrugs. “See, you got this in you!”

The dancing is probably much better than it should be, given that neither of them are drunk. Rhys almost enjoys it, but he hates all the bumping into each another. His first instinct is that someone is trying to steal from him, the second is that someone is asking for a fight, and the last one is that he is just invisible to the world and no-one pays attention to him.

When the last song that is played turns slow, Jack doesn’t pull Rhys in. He can appreciate that gesture, and he will appreciate it when his mind is not clouded by the nice melody, but all he can think of now is: “What? You getting tired now, old man? You can’t stop now!”

Jack smirks, hiding the surprise, and he pulls Rhys close. The younger man doesn’t rest his forehead on Jack’s chest, or press their bodies close, but he enjoys the warmth he gets from the careful contact, and he looks up at Jack in the dimmed lights.

Once he catches a glimpse of Angel dancing with Gaige, and he gives her a thumbs-up when their eyes meet.

He keeps smiling through the song, and when it ends, he pulls back. “Thanks,” he murmurs. “I don’t think I’ve ever got to do this slow dance kind of thing with anybody. It was nice.”

Jack shakes his head a little, shaking his relaxed smile off. He turns to the crowd so suddenly Rhys almost gets elbowed.

“All right, party’s over for anyone underage, and the ones I don’t like!” he calls out. “Get out of here.”

Angel gives a nicer version of the same statement, and soon, people start clearing out. The ones who stay are mostly the ones Rhys knows, and they gather around Jack and Tim. There is a little commotion, but then Tim is all but smacking his hand over his brother’s mouth and yelling: “Don’t listen to him! He is older, he goes first!”

Rhys isn’t forced to get to the front this time, and so he trails slowly to retrieve his gift for Jack, and then to stand at the end of the line that forms. He is standing behind two women who he’d learned are married and share the last name Springs, but he has no idea who they are.

He watches Jack unpack Timothy’s gift immediately, and he is a little disappointed when all the older man does is a stupid jab. “Couldn’t’ve expected anything else from my brother, the famous writer, right? A children’s book?”

He doesn’t see Tim’s reaction. However, he learns who the women are soon. The way the one with purple hair swears and calls Jack names silently, and the other one tries to calm her, but gives him a death glare nonetheless, hints that they are Timothy’s friends more than Jack’s.

The last one to approach Jack is Rhys, and he is thankfully oblivious to the way Jack’s smile falls a little when he sees him. “You got me something too, pumpkin?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, but it’s— it’s really nothing. Just a couple of— I noticed how much you care about that project, and you asked for my insight a couple times, so I thought— Well, here it is. Happy birthday!” He gives a nervous half-smile as he gives Jack the same gift bag as he gave Angel, also filled with papers, notes and blueprints.

Jack takes out one and unfolds it, reading. His eyes widen, and he hides it immediately. “I’ll look into it later,” he promises. “I gotta go now.”

Even though Rhys knows that Jack is just running off so he can be the first one to give a present to Timothy, who is trying to hide somewhere, he feels like he screwed something up catastrophically. He can’t figure out what, though.

He goes last again, all the while trying to come up with an apology. When he meets Tim’s happy eyes and smile, he starts stuttering. “I-I’m really s-sorry about Jack. I didn’t know h-he would say something s-so stupid.”

Tim chuckles. “You didn’t hear what he told me when he gave me this, whatever it is, I’m not opening it now,” he points his finger over his shoulder to a small box placed on the table. “He acts though when there is audience, but he promised he will read it. And I know he will do the exception this time.” If only Tim knew that it won’t be an exception… “So, thank you again for the advice.”

“Don’t mention it,” Rhys blushes. “So, I had a present for you too,” he squirms a little, “but nobody told me we are celebrating in a restaurant. It kinda loses the effect now. Sorry.” He gives Tim an envelope with the notes.

Tim looks inside and he raises an eyebrow. “I can’t play anything,” he says.

“Well… I can,” Rhys can’t keep his gaze anymore, and he looks down, frowning a little when he notices how pitiful his shoes look on the expensive wooden floor. “I wanted to give a little song to you, but… it will have to wait.”

“That sounds cool!” Tim smiles. “I’m definitely looking forward to it!”

The next two hours are a little hell for Rhys. They are filled with random people trying to make conversation with him, most of them starting with lines like: “So, you are Jack’s new friend?” “Hey, Rhys, was it? So, how does Jack treat you? He nice enough, or you just durable?” “You’re the new boy toy?”

They turn creepier with the amount of alcohol consumed, and he usually answers in short sentences, laughs nervously and runs off. He’s got no idea why they keep making this kind of jokes, but he supposes it’s a similar situation like Nisha. If she likes to prank Jack’s friends, maybe the rest do too.

He is tired and jumpy when everybody finally decides to call it a day. He doesn’t drive home with Jack; instead, Angel pulls him into the limousine that brought him from the hospital. She keeps rambling about how awesome it was to finally have a few hours of fun with friends, how she is looking forward to creating the AI, how Rhys definitely needs to help her, and how awesome all the other gifts were.

Rhys tunes it out, smiling and nodding occasionally. He stares out of the window at the city and thinks about the whole night. He loves Jack’s family and his life. But this piece of his life, these people – that was too much. He is confused and his head hurts.

He expects everybody to be sleeping already when he and Angel come into the house. They paid a little visit to the dogs when they arrived, so they are the last ones to come in.

“Here you are!” Tim smiles at him. “We were waiting!”

“For what?” he asks, but he already knows. Tim is holding the envelope. “It can wait, Tim,” he assures him.

“Well, it’s called Tim’s Lullaby, so I guess this is the best time,” he pulls him towards the living room.

To Rhys’ dread, everybody is here. Tim’s excitement is the only thing stopping him from making up an excuse and running away. Jack is leaning on the wall and studying him curiously. A lot of people are waiting, and this probably wouldn’t have happened if Rhys didn’t bother writing a silly name on the paper.

“Okay, but don’t expect much,” he warns them. “I have a very specific style that I call F.F.F., as in fucking-five-fingers,” he perks up a little at Jack’s chuckle, “and it would make a classic roll over in their grave for other reason than the choice word.”

He sits at the piano and tries to forget about all the people as he used to. It takes him a second, but when he presses the first key, he is lost in the music immediately.

The tune is short, only three minutes with his alternations, but it still feels like a little eternity. A pleasant, endless moment when music is the only thing that matters.

When it’s over, he turns around. Everybody except for Tim is clapping, and most of them yawning.

“A lullaby indeed,” sighs Nisha. “Night, everyone.” She leaves, and most of the people follow her. That’s when Rhys notices that Jack is not here anymore.

“Where is Jack?” he asks.

“He left when he heard the first few notes,” Tim explains with a sigh. He looks weary, but he is still smiling. He is looking at Rhys with a little dreamy face. “This was a nice gift, Rhys. Thank you. Really.”

The younger man is getting mixed signals from this situation, and it makes his hair bristle. Before he can try and make sense of it, Angel speaks up, being the only other person left in the room. “What was it? It sounded familiar.”

Tim sighs and closes his eyes. “Jack’s gonna kill me,” he groans, but gives up. “But you deserve to know. You both.” He turns away from them and puts his hands on his hips, looking off into the distance. “This melody, it’s from a lullaby our mother used to sing when we were little. When she still cared. I’ve only ever heard Jack sing it to Angel when she was a baby. Other than that, he doesn’t like remembering the past, and he stopped singing it before you could remember it and repeat it, fearing that you will keep reminding him,” he turns to his niece, giving her a smile.

“Wow,” she breaths out. “Now it almost seems like he has feelings. Other than selfish needs.”

“You should give him more credit,” Tim lightly scolds her. “He is trying. He is changing. Ever since—” he stops himself in time, leaving Rhys to wonder what changed Jack. “You should go to bed. It’s late. Thanks again, Rhys. For all of it.” He winks at him, and then he leaves.

Rhys walks into his room ready to lie down and pass out. When he sees Jack sitting on his bed, surrounded by papers, he almost wants to kick him out.

“How’d you get to that?” he waves a blueprint of Opportunity infrastructure towards Rhys.

“You showed me,” he says, annoyed. He begins to strip out of the nice clothes.

“You’ve got a photographic memory?” the question reeks with sarcasm. “This looks pretty detailed and accurate.”

“Jack,” he groans, stretching the word. “Can you save the paranoia and kill me in the morning? I’m tiiiireeed,” he whines, for once acting like a big baby too. “I took some plans from your home office and copied them, so I could work out some ideas, so I could give you something _special_ and _useful_. If you think that I’m a spy, kill me now, or in the morning, but I want to sleeeeeep.”

Jack stares at him as Rhys begins to collect the papers, only in his boxers now. “Yeah, I should probably go,” he budges, finally getting the things and allowing Rhys into his bed. “One more question, though.” Rhys groans, but lets it happen, happy that his is in the bed at last. “What’s with the song? How’d you know it?”

“Tim is humming it aaaaaall the time, Jack,” he explains. “I heard it; I altered it; I played it. ‘S all. Now, sleeeeeeep.”

He doesn’t remember Jack leaving or himself doing anything else, because sleep takes him immediately.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, same as the last chapter, not much last-minute edditing done here. Also, I hate this story. I need to finish the fourth arc, finally.
> 
> Also, _*Tina's voice*_ plot twist!

The Sunday morning is pleasantly chilly. There is light drizzle outside, the leaves are all brown, yellow, red, and fallen to the ground. It’s the perfect atmosphere to wake up a little late, wrap yourself in a fluffy bathrobe instead of putting on real clothes, and coming to eat breakfast with everybody else.

The coffee and morning meds are already waiting for Rhys on the table, and everybody greets him, offering some of the sweets on the table. Tim is silent, but Rhys sees that the twin is not really there anyway. He has a blissed out smile on his face, a light hickey under his jaw, and he is all but melted into the chair. Wilhelm must have come over yesterday evening.

Rhys had put on his cybernetic arm first thing in the morning, and he has the bathrobe sleeve rolled up to show it off as always. He uses the right hand to clutch the mug with coffee and eats cupcakes with the other hand.

“Cupcake eating cupcakes! Isn’t it the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen?” Jack comes in in a yellow sweater and grey sweatpants, also falling victim to the mood the morning’s weather has brought. He sits next to Rhys and reaches for a waffle.

“I must say, the plans you gave me, and the ideas – it’s awesome. Really proud of you, pumpkin. You have a brain worth any postgraduate, and you don’t even need school.” Jack is acting like nothing had happened yesterday, and Rhys snaps a little. He takes his plate and his mug – he cheers inwardly, because he can carry two things at once – and walks around the table to sit next to Angel.

“Hey, did you sleep well?” he asks her, ignoring all the looks he is getting. The teenager is understanding and engages in the conversation immediately.

“Ouch,” he hears Jack say. “Did I— Did I do anything?”

He raises his gaze for a second to glare at him but lets him figure it out himself. But of course, Handsome Jack doesn’t give up. “I meant it. Best gift ever. It’s great to have someone help me with that project; other person’s insight is important.”

Angel leans and whispers in Rhys’ ear. “I don’t know what happened, but you should give him a hint. I guarantee he doesn’t see anything wrong about what he’d done.”

Rhys sighs, the sound slowly escalating into a groan. “What about an apology, Jack?!” he _hints._

He can hear someone whisper _oof_ , and the other people in the room leave, muttering that they aren’t hungry or will eat the rest by the TV. Wilhelm is the last to stay, looking a little torn before he just snatches the big plate with waffles and follows Tim into the living room.

“Excuse me, what?” Jack asks, annoyed. “Last time I checked, you are the one who broke into my office and stole things.” He looks like he wants to say something else, but he visibly bites his cheek to stop himself.

“Yeah, I promise I’ll never try to surprise you again,” Rhys rolls his eyes. “Also, last time _I_ checked, you allowed me to use it when you are not in there.”

“ _Use_ it, not _steal_ from there!” Jack growls.

“I _borrowed_ it! Everything is back where it was.” He makes an assumption: “And you know that, because you checked, right?” he snorts.

Jack doesn’t let it show, but it’s obvious from his carefully schooled blank stare.

“Great!” Rhys throws both arms in the air, but he can’t cheer at managing to do this for the first time, because he is getting really angry. He hears Maya’s voice motivating him: _Angry is good sometimes. It means you care about something. I’m gonna buy you a cake first time you get angry because someone hurt you, but I guess there is a long road ahead._ ( _“No road is too long if there is cake at the end,”_ he would joke later.)

This makes screaming at Jack a step towards recovery, and so he does so with passion he didn’t feel in years. “I am _no_ fucking spy, Jack! You took me into your home, accepted me into your family after knowing me for a week, and now you dare to assume I’m stealing information?!”

And he is almost sure that those words hurt Rhys a hundred times more than Jack, because it reminds him of the weird sting he felt every time when Jack accused him of being too good to be honest, when his friends kept calling him a toy, when Jack only wanted to dance with him because he was bored or wanted attention or whatever.

Jack is silent, face neutral, maybe a little arrogant, knowing that Rhys has no ground to stand on. Or thinking so.

“I don’t understand you, man,” Rhys goes on. He stands up and paces the room, too much energy in his body. “You tell me you care about me, then your friends keep calling me a toy. You dance with me, but don’t talk to me during the whole party. You want me to work for you, to use my brain and the little knowledge I have, but as soon as I do so, you assume I’m a fucking spy! _You_ wanted me to be a part of your family, but when I do something for your brother, something that has sentimental value, you just stand up and leave! _What do you want from me?!_ ”

Rhys heaves, his voice worked up into screaming. He glares at Jack, whose face is still neutral, until the man stands up and leaves. He just leaves him there. Rhys screams again at the closed door and hits the table with his organic fist, regretting it immediately.

A few minutes later, when Rhys has calmed down, Tim comes into the room after knocking and being told that he can come in. “Are you alright?” he asks, immediately going to examine Rhys’ hand that he is holding to his chest with the other one, uncaring about the fact that this is also new for his cybernetic arm. “Did he... Did he apologise?” he asks as he applies an ice pack to the swelling bruise.

Rhys hisses and shakes his head. “No. He got up and left.” He sighs. “I don’t know anymore, Tim... I came here because of Jack. Now I’m staying because everybody but him.”

Timothy stills. “You want to... leave?”

The younger man thinks about it for only a second before he shakes his head. “No. I love you all too much.” He hears Tim’s relieved exhale and smiles. “But Jack...”

“He wants you to stay, if you are wondering,” Tim assures him.

“I get that,” Rhys shakes his head and shifts the ice pack to a better place. “But he is so, aaargh! I don’t understand him!”

“That means that you are not a sociopathic asshole,” Tim chuckles. “Good for you.”

“Yeah, spectacular!” Rhys grumbles.

Tim pats his shoulder gently and sighs. “And what about you, Rhys? How do you feel about Jack?”

The young man freezes. Not this talk. He is not ready for such a question. Because honestly, he has no idea what’s going on in his own head. He was so sure he doesn’t feel anything towards Jack when he came here. But now, when Jack left him in the dining room, just like that, he is surprised to feel hurt. Wherever that one comes from.

“I... I didn’t want to make him angry,” he says, burning his face in his hands. “I wanted to make him proud. To show him that I’m not useless, that he made a good choice. I wanted to repay him for all he’s done for me.”

“This is how you feel about yesterday, but I asked about Jack,” Tim pries gently, rubbing his shoulders like he could coax the truth out of Rhys. But there is no truth to reveal, just confusion.

“I... I don’t know, Tim. I’ve never felt like this about anyone. Not even in my past relationships, or with my friends, or with my family. I don’t know what I’m feeling.” He groans, rubbing his face like _that_ was the way to get the truth out. “Right now, I feel... hurt? That he left like that. That he didn’t trust me in the first place. But yesterday, when we danced, I was okay just dancing, I didn’t want more. Is that bad? I sound like an asshole.”

“No, of course it’s not.” Timothy sighs. “But it’s not helping at all.”

They both chuckle, and then Rhys feels alright enough to go his own way. “Thank you, Tim. I really appreciate your help,” he says before heading into the library.

He finds himself unable to concentrate on reading or work, and after organising all the papers strewn on the floor, doing a lot of exercises with the arm, taking it off, and finally accepting that he is hiding, he decides to climb out of his burrow once again to seek the piano.

Angel is in the living room, but she looks interested when Rhys heads to the instrument, not inconvenienced, and so he just ignores her like he is used to and plays whatever tune comes to his mind. FFF-style, of course.

He didn’t expect much, because lately it was mainly work that got him to take his mind off something, but the music actually works. He gradually relaxes. Thoughts of the CEO leave his head to be replaced with songs he hums.

In the back of his mind he notices people coming in and leaving, chatting in low voices, sighing. He doesn’t care. He knows he is safe from judgement here. He plays and hums, and sometimes sings, until his fingers begin to tire.

Just as Rhys is about to get up and go back to work, mind calm and clean as a zen garden, Angel sits next to him. “Teach me the melody, Rhys,” she pleads. To make sure he knows which, she plays the first few notes, but she is a little off. “Please. Uncle Tim refused to share.”

Rhys sighs. “You know I shouldn’t, I know I shouldn’t… Why am I doing this?” he asks rhetorically as he begins to play.

Angel is a fast learner, and she manages to memorise the whole tune after having Rhys repeats it twice. He watches her play it in her own way, using _ten fingers_ , and of course it’s so much better than his version.

“Don’t go,” she stops him when she senses that he is getting up again. “Play with me,” she nudges him.

Hesitantly, Rhys puts his left hand to the far right part of the piano, and the simple lullaby sounds like a great song when the three hands play. Each hand follows a slightly different pattern, creating something completely new. As a fan of music in general, Rhys can’t not love it.

He raises an eyebrow at Angel when she smirks at him deviously all of a sudden and stops abruptly. The back of his head begins to tingle, and he turns around, seeing Jack looking straight at him. The younger man gulps when Jack crosses the room in a few long strides and gestures at the two to move away.

Angel’s face is victorious, while Rhys is doing everything to not let his jaw fall as Jack sits by the piano.

“I hate you both,” Jack says. “And you, Angel, you are grounded. Think up a different official reason if you don’t like this one, but you are grounded.” He shakes his head, muttering something about her taking after him too much, and a plotting little mouse, but the girl doesn’t stop grinning, expression smug. Finally, Jack sighs and puts his hands on the keys. “You two are off. Tim too. Let me show you…”

The song is over before the shock washes off Rhys, and he regrets his slow brain, because he is almost sure that he just missed Jack playing the piano and _singing_. Sure enough, Jack’s voice is not made for singing, but it’s good enough to manage a lullaby in a language Rhys had never heard before.

“Satisfied?” Jack turns to Angel, who immediately jumps at him, hugging him tightly.

“Yes! Finally! Thanks, Rhys,” she mumbles over her shoulder and then she turns back to Jack. “Will you finally tell me more about where we come from?”

Jack sighs and runs his hands through his hair. After a long pause, he nods. “I’ll think about it. Tim’s done most of the job for me, though, with the last book. Ask him for a copy if you want.”

“I want to hear it from you,” she crosses her arms on her chest stubbornly. “Think about it!” she reminds Jack before running off.

“You are still grounded! No echonet!” the father calls after her.

Rhys is brought back from his haze by the sight of Jack mindlessly tracing the keys of the piano. “Uhm,” he clears his throat. “Jack… What was that? Was I— Was I just—?”

“Used as an object in Angel’s plot to manipulate me into this?” Jack finishes it for him. “It seems so. Though, she also seemed to be honestly enjoying herself when you two played, so don’t think that she just used you.”

Rhys doesn’t think that. He isn’t thinking about Angel at all. “So, did you read the book yet?” he asks casually. He wants to steer Jack into telling Timothy his honest opinion, because the younger brother deserves it, and Jack probably won’t do it on his own.

“Yes, actually,” Jack stands up, “that’s the reason why I came here. I need to ask you about something.”

Rhys thinks of all the things he could have done wrong this time, but he can’t find any. “Something about the book?” he asks cautiously.

“Yep,” Jack nods. He gestures for Rhys to follow him and they walk to his room. The book lays on the bed nightstand, and Jack opens it on one of the last pages and hands it to the other man.

The page is blank except for one line in the middle: _Thank you, Rhys :)_

“What do you have to do with this book?” Jack asks him.

Rhys would like to answer, or to enjoy the warmth the hidden message sends through him for a moment, but all of it is pushed aside as he rolls his eyes. “Paranoia again? Tim didn’t tell me anything.” He offers the book back to Jack, and when he doesn’t take it, he lets it fall on the bed. “You should talk to Tim. He deserves to know your true opinion. Be honest, for once.”

Rhys turns around to walk out, but Jack stops him by grabbing his wrist. “Wait,” he urges him. “Rhys, this wasn’t— This isn’t paranoia. I just wanted to say thank you. It looks like you picked almost all the gifts that were given, except for my gift for Tim.”

“And Angel,” Rhys points out. “I didn’t help her.”

Jack shakes his head. “You did. She created the robot and is going to give it to Tim; she gave him a promise at the party, and all that’s because you mentioned to her that Tim is the loneliest of us, usually staying behind and waiting for somebody to stop working.”

Rhys frowns. “I don’t even remember saying that. I wasn’t intending to push her in such a direction.”

“But you did,” Jack shakes his head dismissively. “And you know what she gave me? Well, I can’t tell you exactly what it was, but it was inspired by you too.” He chuckles. “You made our birthdays, pumpkin. And you still managed to do something amazing for everyone yourself.” His voice turns serious, then. “You must understand that you are too good to be true…”

It would be flattering, but… “Too good?!” he asks, folding his arm on his chest. “How about meeting the awfully rich CEO of Hyperion in your own asylum room and becoming a part of his life? That’s too good to be true too, and do I doubt everything you give me?” Well, he does, but in a different way. “I trusted you, Jack, that your intentions were clear when you took me here. How about you trust back?”

“Trust is not that simple, kid,” Jack begins, inhaling enough for a whole CEO-mode speech, but Rhys’ won’t have it.

“Isn’t it? Well, don’t work yourself up into a headache for me.” He turns on his heels and leaves. And he avoids Jack successfully until Christmas.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't decide if I love or hate it, but I remember the terrible writer's block this chapter caused me when I wrote it. This is heavily beta'd, so I hope it's good. :D

Timothy Lawrence feels like a character in a cheap telenovel as he watches Jack prepare Rhys’ medicine in the morning, writing out who is supposed to be at home at the right time to give it to him. Jack leaves, and Tim is alone in the kitchen once again, sipping his fourth coffee and scribbling down his newest story idea. It’s a love story, and he knows exactly where it came from.

Rhys is more silent than he was when he first arrived. He doesn’t look sad or crushed, but it’s easy to tell that he isn’t happy. Something is missing as he buries himself in work (at home, because he stopped going to work with Jack after the birthdays), studies, or plays games with Tim and Angel, or calls his friend Vaughn for hours, excitedly telling him about his projects and the things he’d learned.

Tim knows very well what the two miss, what makes them miserable. (Jack is pretty miserable if the number of fired employees is anything to go by.) Tim knew from the very beginning, and even if he didn’t, both Jack and Rhys often come to him to pour their hearts out to him. He knows that both of them are slowly accepting their feelings, and he knows that the acceptance only makes the old wound hurt more. What caused the gap between them to grow, he doesn’t know. Neither told him.

Timothy is a romantic. He hopes that they will eventually find a way to cross the gap, the chasm. And he _tries_ to help them, but this is not his fight, and he doesn’t have the right to interfere. (Though, he is highly tempted when Jack straight-out asks him how he thinks Rhys feels about Jack.)

As the Christmas nears and Rhys has all the gifts ready, Timothy prays for a miracle. He thinks that gifts might have been what caused this mess. He hopes that more gifts won’t cause Rhys to leave. Just to be sure, he makes Rhys reveal what he got for Jack and Angel. More projects and ideas, of course. He still insists that his brain is the only useful part about him. Both seem innocent enough. A robot design for Jack and another AI draft for Angel. It’s meant to be put together in the end.

Tim sighs as he lets the pen finally fall out of his hand. Wil is getting up, so he can arrive at Jack’s office at a more reasonable hour. He takes a packed sandwich out of the fridge and kisses Tim goodbye. This soothes his mind only for a while; soon, Tim’s head is hitting the table repeatedly. Why can’t the two fools finally find each other?!

* * *

Rhys is nervous for many reasons. He didn’t celebrate Christmas properly in years, and although Jack’s family isn’t into all the traditions and sappiness, they will have a proper dinner together and exchange gifts.

Rhys curses himself for not working with Jack. Coming up with gifts would be easier if he had any money. And it would also be the right thing to do. But nope, Rhys had to go and ruin everything by screaming at Jack ungratefully, causing the older man to stop talking to him completely. He is rightfully pissed at himself.

Of course, he managed to get a gift for everyone. A design for a worker robot for Jack, an AI idea for Angel, whose interest in AI’s grew ever since she worked on the first one. For Tim, Rhys created a device he could draw his doodles into, as well as write stories, and have it all transferred into a computer easily. For Nisha, Rhys worked on a pistol, for Wilhelm an upgrade idea, for Axton, a device that would ease communication with his friends and family in other countries – ones without a reliable network.

( _Rhys talked to Axton about his old fashioned comm before, thinking that maybe he could create a completely new model for him, but the ex-soldier has a special relationship with it, as it seems._

_“I call it the Toorret,” he said._

_“Too-what? What the— It’s just a comm piece…” Rhys stared at the beaten old brick of a comm searching for a hidden meaning, but other than the remnants of the word Toorret written on the side with a sharpie, he didn’t find anything._

_Chuckling, and all but enjoying his frustration, Axton explained. “Because… When I use it, bullets rain…” He made a pause for effect, and then shrugged. “Sure, the bullets rain from my men, but the effect is the same. Bad guys gone.” He laughed like it was the best joke ever, and Rhys grinned, just enjoying that he is a part of it now._ )

[How many read-throughs did this work have before I noticed saying other planets instead of countries? Simply put, too many.]

Yes, Rhys spent the whole December working on smart things he could give to anyone, but in the end, all of the work, hours and days, formed a sad pile of small gift bags, each containing an ECHO drive and a paper explaining the gift. It all looked like nothing placed next to the big boxes under the unnecessarily big tree in the living room. And it would be nothing until Jack had the prototypes produced at Hyperion. And Rhys would owe him even more.

Rhys would never truly fit in, and this was a proof. All he could give them was his head, while they gave him love, a home, security and much more expensive gifts. But he can fake it till he makes it, and so he nervously tugs at his tie and heads to the dining room.

In the doorway, he almost bumps into Jack, and his heart does the weird thing when it pulls him forward and makes him want to hide at the same time. He feels this a lot, lately.

“Oh, here you are!” Jack grins at him, and it makes the younger man’s mouth form a small smile of his own. Jack barely looks at him most of the days, but the Christmas mood must have done nice things to him.

But then Jack frowns a little and laughs. “Oh, look at your tie! Did Wilhelm tie the knot? Here, let me help you,” he quickly tugs the knot loose to tie it himself.

Rhys feels his cheeks heat up, but he is not sure if he is ashamed or angry. “I tied it,” he says softly, and now, this definitely sounded _defeated_ , not like he was about to fight for his accomplishment. Ashamed is it, then.

Jack stops mid-move. “Oh,” he says. He looks a little dumb, but Rhys can’t hold his gaze and relish it. “First time?”

He shakes his head and shrugs. “Like, hundredth. I’ve been practicing for the past two days. Seen a tutorial on the echonet, but… Thanks for the help,” he tries for a smile, but fails.

Jack hesitates for a little longer, but then he finishes tying the knot. He breaths in, but Rhys doesn’t want to face him for any longer, and so he slips past him, offering Timothy help with polishing the silverware they got for this occasion.

In a couple more minutes, Jack proclaims all the food ready, they bring it to the table and sit. Rhys almost faints the moment he remembers the Christmases with his family, when Sasha would keep kicking Fiona under the table while their father had a speech about being a family. He manages to collect himself before anyone notices, and he accepts all the food that is offered to him, because Jack made it, and it’s sure to be delicious.

Happy chatter fills the room as people eat and talk, but even Rhys knows that it wouldn’t be proper Christmas without a fight. And he knew he would be the cause.

“Rhys, do you want wine? It goes great with the meat,” Nisha holds out a bottle in the direction of his glass, tilting it suggestively.

“No, thank you,” he smiles, not yet expecting what will happen. “I can’t drink any alcohol, remember?”

“Oh, come on! It’s Christmas!” she tries to tempt him, reaching for his glass.

He is about to refuse again, but Jack beats him to it. “ _No_ , Nisha,” he says, his voice bearing an obvious warning. “Rhys can’t drink. Stop playing your stupid games.”

“Don’t be a prude, Jackie,” she argues in a sweet voice. “Let the boy have some fun. Maybe then you will finally—”

Whatever she wanted to suggest, she didn’t get to it, because Jack brought his fist to the table with force that had all the glasses clattering. Silence spread in the room, and when Jack spoke, he spoke calmly. “One more word and you are out. Fired, out of my house, out of my life. You understand?”

She nodded, trying to look unimpressed, but this time, even this dauntless woman was nervous about pushing at Jack’s boundaries. Everything came back to normal, eventually, and Rhys figured out that this was not really about him, but about something that has been going on between the ex-partners for some time. But he still felt like he caused the drama.

Then came the presents.

Rhys ate too much for dinner, and he felt sick. For half an hour, he barely noticed what’s happening around him, and when he felt safe enough to raise his head, it was just at the right moment to see Angel looking at the small gift bags. “There are no names on these,” she shrugged helplessly.

Rhys wanted to speak, but Jack beat him to it again. “If someone is giving out the stupid free multilevel marketing skin care lesson coupons as a joke again, I won’t hesitate to take my gifts back from you. And this looks exactly like those stupid cosmetics last year,” he points at the bags. “Not funny.”

Rhys groans inwardly and facepalms himself in reality. “Those are from me, Jack,” he says quietly. “I promise it’s not coupons.”

Awkward silence filled the room, much worse than at the dinner table. Rhys took a deep breath and put on a happy, careless face. “There are ribbons to help sort them out. Here, let me help,” he joined the youngest member of the family. “Light blue and black ribbon for you,” he handed her the bag. “Purple for… Nisha,” he stood up to walk over to the woman who refused to meet his eyes.

“Blue and green is dad and uncle, right?” Angel asked, her voice almost convincingly joyful. “That’s neat!”

“Yeah,” he nodded, but he couldn’t manage to smile. “The lighter coloured is for Tim, and…” He decided that talking is useless, because his weak voice only made the lack of conversation resonate more, and so he just passed over the gift, and then did his best to not shake as he walked towards Jack.

The CEO’s face was neutral as he sat in the armchair like it was a throne. But as Rhys neared, his brows furrowed in worry. “I’m sorry, Rhys,” he whispered for only the younger man to hear.

If anything, it made things worse. Rhys’ shoulders drooped, and his left hand began to shake. “I… I think Angel will figure the rest out. Excuse me,” he muttered as he all but ran out of the room. He heard a few angry, blaming voices, but thankfully no steps.

As he burst into the room, the first thought on his mind was: _I need to get out_. And his gaze fell on the window. The fall would hurt a lot. He shut his eyes and nervously paced into the bathroom where he knew that there is nothing dangerous, and it is a good hiding spot. He thinks that he might be safe here, and who knows, he might even get rid of the fucking stupid thought about the window and the number of sharp things there must be in Jack’s bedroom and other ways out.

But nope, no, _of course_ _not_ , because right on _this fucking day_ the _stupid_ silver fish that Jack called Rhys _decided_ to die. Rhys watches the pale floating body of the fish, practically gaping in disbelief. _Right_. So much for universe not wanting to kill him.

Looking at his right arm, Rhys contemplates smashing the tank and killing all the fish just to get rid of the evidence that the universe apparently wants him out of this house too, but who knows how the arm would react to impact and water. No, Rhys is a reasonable adult man.

So, of course, he heads back into his room to pack his things and leave in the normal way. This place is not for him anymore. Being near Jack physically hurts, being locked up each in a different room even more, and what will the others think—

Knock on the door.

The sound brings Rhys back into reality, and he stops in the middle of the room, turning to face the door that opens without prompting to reveal Jack. The CEO is a little dishevelled, face tinted red and shoulders tense like he is ready to attack or be attacked. Rhys knows him, and he can read this display like an open book. There was a fight down there. Because of him, of course.

He is not sure what he wants to do, and so he remains silent until Jack closes the door and leans on it. They both look at each other, trying to read more into the other’s behaviour, but if they could in the first place, none of this would be happening.

“You are tense,” Rhys finally speaks, avoiding the topic they _should_ be talking about.

“Yeah,” Jack shrugs. “That tends to happen to me a lot.” Another minute of silent staring, and Rhys is about to begin talking about the weather when Jack says something unexpected. “It was much better when you helped me deal with my temper. Every time, the tension just disappeared. That was nice.”

They don’t do it anymore, even though they could. Rhys could hug Jack when he comes tense from the office and starts cooking, cutting the vegetable with much more force than needed. Rhys could help him calm down, accept a whispered thanks, and walk away, and they both would be happy, but he decided that breaking his own heart is not a good price to pay for lowering the CEO’s heartrate.

“I guess it was,” he shrugs. “But I doubt I would be able to help you right now. I’m not feeling my best myself.” With a sigh, he decides that they had enough. “Why did you come here? If it’s about the joke, I don’t care. Apology accepted. I guess they looked pretty bad.” Sensing what Jack is about to say – something he always says – he doesn’t let him speak. “And yes, I am aware that the gift was good. No need to thank me, but go on if it makes you feel good. I did what I know the best for all of you, and I didn’t have the means to make it look fancy. Aaaaand, I am no spy. Just sayin’.”

Jack closes his eyes, tensing up even further. “I haven’t looked at the gift yet,” he says, voice strangely hoarse, “but I’m sure it’s something great and amazing, so, _thank you_.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” Rhys says with an eye-roll the CEO can’t see and he can’t enjoy. “I also think that it’s good. So, this is out of the way. Now, you can—”

“Rhys!” Jack interrupts him with urgency that borders desperation. “I don’t. Fucking. Know. What you want from me.”

Rhys huffs. “What _I_ want from _you_ , Jack? What have I _ever_ wanted from you?! Better – what do _you_ want from _me_? I moved out of your fucking way, yet you _still_ hate me,” he halts for half a second when he sees the older man twitch at the word, “and _even then_ , you come into my room once again! _What do you want from me?!_ ” he screams right in Jack’s face, until then unaware that he moved so close. A feeling of déjà vu hits him, and he briefly wonders how much he screws up this time.

Jack groans, for a second looking lost, then angry. “I don’t hate you, you idiot!”

“Why are you here?” Rhys demands. Jack is silent, and so Rhys tries a different angle. “What did the others have to say to make you come and talk to me, hmm?”

“I came here because _I_ wanted to,” Jack growls. Rhys clearly hit a nerve here, but see if he cares.

“Sure. After Tim probably told you that you overstepped, and Angel sent you to apologise, and everyone else—”

“They said something different, actually,” Jack squints at him. “Angel told me that she admires my ability to destroy everything nice in our lives and shut herself in her room, and Timmy,” he makes a pause, looking Rhys up and down as if he really were to be hiding a potential assassination weapon on him, “my little brother, the innocent soul, said something very interesting.”

Even though they aren’t laced with malice, the words sound incredibly threatening to Rhys. He blanches, remembering all the times he talked to Tim about his feelings, or whatever it was, for Jack. Did he…? The younger brother wouldn’t betray him and tell Jack, right? _He can’t do that._

“Rhys, listen,” Jack suddenly changes his tone and attitude completely, looking less like the powerful CEO and more like Jack Lawrence. “I failed spectacularly. Ever since you moved in, I only managed to hurt you and push you away. I’m terrible at this thing, interacting with people, trusting people. But I know for sure that I can trust you. I know it, but I act like I don’t, because I can’t force my mind into this new point of view.

“I… Tim’s told me to open up for once, and so I will try it. And to be fair, I’ll tell you first that I’m only doing this because Tim said that you… you… that you still… _like me_ after all of this.”

Rhys turns away abruptly, walking to the window. So, it turns out that Tim _can_ and Tim _did_. What a traitorous—

“He didn’t mean to say it,” Jack tries in vain to save his brother’s face. “But… If he didn’t say it, I wouldn’t have ever hoped… Rhys, I like you. You know I like you. I did from the beginning, and I never stopped. And I know that you didn’t share the feelings, which is alright. But if there is a small chance that—”

“Jack, stop!” he chokes out, barely holding in a frustrated sob. “Stop the game.”

He hears Jack inhale sharply, then kick something. “It’s not a game, Rhys,” he says, his voice calm as a perfect contrary to the body language. “If there is the smallest chance that you could forgive me. I was an asshole, I know. Just let me—”

This time it’s a sob that breaks the stream of words, and Rhys feels his whole body shake from multitude of reasons. Jack is apologising for the mess Rhys _had_ caused. Jack is there to save whatever formed between them against Rhys’ will before it shattered. Jack is in his room again, even though he couldn’t even look him in the eyes just yesterday, and it’s all Rhys wanted for the past weeks as he silently cried himself to sleep at night, but now that he has it, it’s too much. He can’t, it’s moving too fast, and he is overwhelmed, but he wants it, and Jack can fix it, he is sure; Jack always fixes it, but he doesn’t know how to tell him, and so he says—

“The stupid fish died!” It’s the most comprehensible thought in his head right now, but Jack apparently doesn’t understand, because he lets out a confused sound. “The silver one. _Rhys_. It died.”

Jack is silent for another moment, before he hesitantly speaks. “We can buy another one. You can help me pick.”

Rhys hears silent steps nearing him, and he fights the urges to shy away and to turn to Jack until a hand is touching his shoulder, and he jumps.

Jack doesn’t back away, and he uses the hand to turn the other man around, forcing him to look at him with teary eyes. “Rhysie,” he sighs as he pulls the satin handkerchief from his pocket to offer it to him. He takes it and dries his face, trying to ignore the expensive material it’s made of, that he is undoubtedly ruining. “I’m not sure what exactly had happened to us, and I don’t know how to fix it, but I want to try,” he says with a small smile. “The past weeks were hell. I kept thinking about you, feeling like an absolute fool. I’m sorry, so sorry for hurting you. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that. Please, give me a chance.”

Closing his eyes to make it all easier, Rhys asks: “Chance to what?”

“Whatever you want,” Jack answers without missing a beat. “We can be friends again and I promise I won’t doubt you again. We can start spending time together again. We can… do more, if you want… eventually.”

Rhys feels his head nodding, even though he still doesn’t understand the head or tail of his thoughts. “Yeah. I want it.”

“Want what?” Jack asks dumbly, and Rhys actually chuckles.

“I want you, idiot. More of you, all of you; god, I missed you so much!” And then he is opening his eyes, seeing Jack’s wide smile, and he closes the distance to hug him, but Jack wants more. He leans in and kisses the younger man like it was the first time, long, slow and deep.

They are both panting when they part, but a playful spark appears in Rhys’ eyes, and he pulls Jack closer by his tie and kisses him again. As if reading each other’s thoughts, they both move in unison to the bed, falling onto the soft mattress without breaking the kiss.

Soon, hands are roaming, and Jack doesn’t even hiss when the cold metal touches his stomach, his shirt rolled up, blazer long discarded. Rhys’ shirt is unbuttoned, and Jack runs his palm over his chest, the other hand never leaving his back, keeping him pressed close. Nor do their lips ever part for long enough to actually taste the areas they are uncovering. They just keep trying to steal more of each other’s warmth before the moment breaks.

And it does.

“Wait, Rhysie,” Jack pants, waiting until the younger man pulls away, confusion in his face, threatening to give way to sadness. “We shouldn’t, not now,” he says, gently caressing the now pouting face. “It’s Christmas, everybody is down there waiting for us so they can smother you in love and put my head on a stake. We should, at least, wait.”

Rhys doesn’t want to, but he nods and moves away from Jack completely. He starts buttoning up his shirt, straightening the fabric, and when they both are more or less dressed, Jack stands in front of him. His tie is not back in place yet, the knot too loose after Rhys hastily tugged it away, and it will need to be redone.

“Care to help me with this?” Jack asks as he unties it completely.

Rhys can appreciate the gesture, but he doubts the value of it. “I can hardly tie my own, Jack. It will look terrible and—”

“And what? Just do it, dumdum. Man has to know how to tie a good knot, whichever way.”

It’s not the gentle and careful encouragement Rhys would get from Tim, Maya, Vaughn or anybody else. It’s Jack, but that’s okay, because that’s the man he chose, the one who is sarcastic and dumb, but also caring and really, really trying.

Rhys ties the worst knot ever, the only good thing about it is that the tie is a good length, ending where it should. And his right hand refuses to obey him when he tries to correct it, and so he just leaves it as it is. Jack takes his hand in his, and they head back into the living room.

* * *

Walking down the stairs, down the hall with the red carpet, Jack’s hand clutching Rhys’ like he was afraid to let go, it all makes the younger man feel _ecstatic_. He keeps squeezing Jack’s hand back, feeling that it’s _really_ , _actually_ there, making sure it’s not one of the sad confusing dreams his mind produces occasionally.

If he can dare to judge, Jack feels the same. And Rhys has to wonder. What the hell did happen to them to ever separate them? He can’t imagine a good reason now when he is basking in Jack’s warmth and pleasant smell of cologne again. Like during the last days at the asylum, inseparable.

As soon as they step into the room, they are greeted with chuckles and playful groans of _finally_ and _the hero got the boy_. Rhys smiles, even though he might find the quips a little weird later.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack waves his hand at everyone dismissively. “If you all could stop gossiping, Rhys hadn’t opened his presents yet, and I really want him to know how _appreciated_ and _loved_ he is in this family.” The two words are almost growled, and it’s stupid, but it makes the young man smile even more as he is gently pushed into an armchair, Jack sitting on the armrest.

He starts opening the gifts piled by his side one by one, only now realising how many there are. His legs never stop touching Jack’s, as well as his shoulder doesn’t ever get too far from the older man’s chest, and the smiles he gives to others with his thanks’ must be straight-out dopey, but he doesn’t care, because he finally has Jack now, he can finally be close to him again.

If you asked Rhys half an hour later, he wouldn’t be able to tell what he actually got for Christmas. He might recall the nice platinum and gold wristband he got from Jack, maybe the silly framed picture of the bears from Tim’s storybooks that he was told to hang in his library to remind him to come out for food once in a while (the bears were having a picnic on a pink blanket with pink plates, and judging by the looks Jack and Timothy exchanged, there might be a nice story behind it).

It is to nobody’s surprise when Jack leads Rhys away as soon as he swallows the last medication for the day, gently pulling him into his bedroom instead of the younger man’s. Rhys is all sleepy at the time, tired and content after listening to the friendly conversations of his friends for so long, and when Jack helped him strip to his underwear and take off the arm, he climbed into the bed and fell asleep a mere second after Jack was settled behind him.

 _Happy_.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm spoiling my baby Rhys as an apology for what happens at the beginning of this chapter.

The CEO of Hyperion never sleeps, and Rhys was woken up at three in the morning as Jack tried to carefully free himself from the octopus hug. He tried to ask the CEO where he is going, but it came out like a huff of air.

“Sleep, baby,” Jack tried to soothe him, patting his head a few times before continuing his retreat from the bed.

Rhys managed to say a rather firm “No,” as he grabbed the warm hand that caressed his cheek and held it as fast as he could manage in his sleepy state. He frowned slightly at the ensuing chuckle, but he was already drifting back to sleep now that there was no offending movement.

But then Jack tried to free his hand again, and he succeeded. Rhys forced his too heavy body up by an inch, trying to stare at Jack, but the man was moving in the complete darkness. “Where are you going?” he finally managed to ask.

“Gym, pumpkin, and then work,” Jack sighed. “Go to sleep.”

“I’m going with you,” Rhys decided, sitting up with the grace of a drunken skag. He knew he was gonna regret this decision in less than fifteen minutes, but the fear of being left alone in a quiet house again was urging him forward.

“To the gym?” comes a question, and Rhys can _hear_ the raised eyebrow even now.

“Yes, because I know that you wouldn’t—” his speech is interrupted with a yawn, “wake me up to take me to work. So, I’m going with you to the gym. I am allowed to exercise, right? You will teach me what to do?”

“Anything you ask, baby,” Jack chuckles and comes to the bed, leaning on it with one knee as he gently kisses Rhys. “But today I want you to get some proper sleep, princess.”

The younger man groans as all the warmth disappears again, but the sound is interrupted with another yawn at the mention of sleep. “Fine,” he murmurs as he lets himself fall back into the bed. He gets another kiss and one more on his forehead, and then Jack leaves.

* * *

Rhys gets to watch Handsome Jack during his morning routine. He comes back covered in sweat, and he turns on one dim light as he moves through the room, picking out clothes for the day. He comes back from the shower after ten minutes, already dressed, shaved.

Rhys watches through barely open eyes as the CEO heads to the chest of drawers where he keeps all the make-up and skincare products. He watches him freeze for a second before reaching for one of the mirrors, positioning it so he sees himself in it.

His movements are automatic as he applies the first crème, probably repeated every morning. When the tube is put away, Jack reaches for another, and then another. Then, he cleans his face off with a wet cloth, and he repeats the process with more crèmes. More than half of the products only goes to the scar and the damaged skin around it, and it’s much later when he finally begins to apply make-up.

The CEO’s movements come to still once again when his hand is covered in dark foundation. He sighs, his shoulders slumping in the many-layer suit. “You can go to your room if the light’s waking ya.”

Rhys knows that he has been staring too boldly, but he can’t bring himself to tear his gaze off what he sees. “I’m good here,” he says. Jack, however, doesn’t seem too keen on being watched during this process, and he tenses up further. That has Rhys stumbling to his feet again, wobbly walking towards Jack.

“Just shut up and let me be here with you,” he says as he hugs him like he did before, from behind, hand on chest. It didn’t have the usual effect at first, and Rhys began to worry that this is the line, that this is too much for Jack, too painful, and he would understand. But then Jack chuckled, relaxed all at once and continued to work on his face.

Rhys’ eyelids got heavy again by the time Jack picked a pair of sunglasses and put them in his pocket. He turned in the hug, carefully caressing Rhys’ cheeks with hands still a little smeared with concealers.

“See?” Rhys murmurs, happily leaning into the touch, almost purring. “I’m just fine here.”

Jack chuckles and gently pinches his cheek. “Okay, okay. But I’d feel much better if you went to sleep in your room, now. Can you do that?”

“I dunno,” Rhys pretends to ponder over it. “You will have to show me the way.”

Jack snorts and suddenly picks him up bridal style. “This will be easier,” he says, voice only a little strained with effort as he carries the giggling man into the other room. He drops him on the bed rather unceremoniously, and pulls the blankets over him, retreating too fast. “Gotta run. Be good here,” he calls over his shoulder.

* * *

Sleeping in isn’t really an option when you have to take your medicine at certain times, but lazy mornings are still a possibility. Sometimes even a must.

Clad in the most comfortable (and also the oldest) clothes he owns, wrapped in a fluffy blanket, he lays on an armchair, legs thrown over one armrest and head over the other. Upside-down, he watches the fire burning, mindlessly going through some arm exercises.

Every time he remembers yesterday, he smiles. And this early morning. It’s all so good, like he woke up in the middle of a fairy tale. He is the princess and Jack the prince who finally managed to find him, and the rest is just the story of how they escaped the monster. Who or what is the monster, the young man doesn’t know, but he giggles at the thought of himself as a princess.

Jack comes back from the office early, just after lunch, and Angel takes the opportunity to drag everyone into the living room once more. She makes her uncle sit closest to the tree and with a hard glare makes Jack get up from his usual armchair to sit on a loveseat, sharing it with Rhys.

“Now, I want to introduce someone to you all,” she says with a smile. Rhys knows what’s going on, and so he just leans back, enjoying his black tea silently. Jack, on the other side, leans forwards, eyebrows raising well in the middle of his forehead when Angels opens a big box.

The thing inside looks like a huge metallic ball, silver and red. She carries it carefully, putting it on the floor in front of Timothy. “Press the button, uncle,” she urges him.

Tim is confused for only a second, and then he presses the hardly visible button on top of the thing. The thing then whirrs and buzzes for a while until settling again. Then it hisses one more time as it opens, a cute little robot revealing itself.

“Hi, everybody!” it greets cheerily. “It’s so nice to meet you all!”

Rhys can see Jack frowning in confusion, and he giggles silently. This is no superweapon, or anything Hyperion would be interested in. This is purely Angel and her work, unaffected by her father.

“So, this is what you have been working on for the past months?” Jack asks, cringing as he sees Timothy already chatting with the robot. “A companion robot?”

“Oh, I _am_ much more!” the robot turns to him. “But sssh! It’s a secret. I’m not supposed to tell anybody.”

Jack perks up at that, undoubtedly thinking about learning about the robot’s full potential one way or another, but Angel glares at him. “Be sure to never answer my father’s questions,” she tells the robot, still glaring at him, “Gortys.”

The mug falls out of Rhys’ hand, warm – thankfully not hot – liquid spilling all over him, seeping into the fluffy blanket. Jack catches the mug on the last second before it hits the ground. “Pumpkin?” he asks with concern.

“Is he alright?” Gortys mirrors his concerned tone. “You are Rhys, right? Angel gave me a lot of information about you. Not as much as about him,” she points at Jack, “or him,” Timothy, “but a lot, nevertheless. I think we are meant to be friends.”

Jack is the only one who knows what’s wrong, but he has yet to think about a way out of this situation. He begins with helping Rhys dab off the water with tissues, growling at the robot to fuck off. He tries to take his anger out on the thing and not on his daughter, because he is sure what she has caused will turn out to be a catastrophe.

“It’s alright, Jack,” a small voice and a trembling hand catch the CEO’s. Rhys doesn’t feel alright, looks anything but alright, but… he must handle this. “Hello… Gortys,” he greets the robot. His eyes meet the narrowed shining lights of her for a second before looking at Jack, who is holding his hand steady and studying his face. “I kinda knew Angel would do this.”

“Rhys,” the teenager speaks up, “I’m sorry if this is too much. I thought—”

“I know,” he stops her before she could reveal anything. “I appreciate the gesture, really.” Because he does. He just can’t stop himself from hurting, because this is where it all started; the beginning of his end was Gortys’ death. But now, through Angel and her project, Gortys will live forever.

“I think I should go and change,” he gets up quickly. Too much is happening, and he needs to take a break from it. He doesn’t say anything when Jack trails close behind him, concern still on his face.

They both walk into his room in silence. Rhys heads straight into the bathroom, asking Jack to bring him clean clothes as he is already detaching the arm, stripping and stepping into the shower, all without a single thought in his head as he pushes them out in precaution.

When he is clean of the sweet tea with too much honey, a pile of clothes is waiting for him not far from the bathroom door. Jack must have only stepped in for a second, which is nice. But Rhys frowns at the clothes. He puts on the underwear and one of the newer t-shirts, but he takes the jeans in his hand and carries them out.

“I wanted something more comfortable today,” he explains as he heads towards the wardrobe. He stops when he sees that it’s open and most of his clothes is on the floor. “Jack?”

“Forget lazing around; we are going shopping, pumpkin,” Jack says, nudging the pile of clothes with his foot. “I didn’t realise you still don’t have many clothes. Most of this is old rags.”

“You aren’t throwing it away!” Rhys warns him in a stern tone.

“I wouldn’t dare to,” the older man rolls his eyes. “But you seriously need more clothes. You wanted to go to work again, right? And to hit the gym with me? We are going shopping now, so put the pants on.”

“Uhm, Jack, it’s the twenty-fifth December. No shops are open,” he reminds him, reaching for some sweatpants.

“Uh-uh,” Jack kicks it away. “I’m Handsome freakin’ Jack, darlin’. They are always happy to see me. Aaaaaand, I own the shopping centre, remember?”

“No,” the younger man shakes his head, chuckling. “I’ve never been there. August lived in the suburbs; we didn’t visit the great shopping centre in the city centre.”

“Great! Another reason to go there! Now, hurry!” The CEO is getting progressively more excited, and Rhys gives up, putting the jeans on with a chuckle and fishing a pair of bright socks from the pile on the floor. (As for picking it all up, he relies on Tassiter.)

By the time he is finished, clad in a hoodie, Jack had corrected his make-up and is waiting by the front door. “Which car do we want?” he asks rhetorically. Rhys knows that Jack’s gonna take the yellow sleek one. He likes it the most.

The young man feels a little bad for Wilhelm, who is forced to go with them, but the big man doesn’t seem to be bothered by the fact, and Tim is still too preoccupied talking with Gortys about his newest book.

The drive to the centre is fast, roads almost empty, and no snow in sight. The weather is always a little warmer in Helios. Not as much as Pandora, but definitely a nicer clime than Opportunity is going to be in if Jack manages to have the city built.

To Rhys’ surprise, more than half of the shops were open. Given that some were just opening, he suspected that Jack made a few calls. Now he felt bad for even more people.

“Aww, kitten, don’t give me that look,” Jack nudges his ribs playfully. “The people are getting paid a lot for this. Don’t think about that and enjoy this. It’s your first time!”

“It’s not nearly my first shopping centre, Jack,” he huffs.

“Yeah, but the Pandoran crap can hardly compare to this! _I_ ’ve had this place built!” Like it wasn’t obvious with all the posters and statues, Hyperion yellow and Jack’s name around them.

“That’s pretty xenophobic, Jack,” Rhys rolls his eyes, but he is amused, and this definitely looks fancier than any place he’d ever been to. He doesn’t mention the fact that there are no shopping centres like this in Pandora, or that he is actually impressed.

As expected, the first thing that catches his eyes is ice-cream parlour. With his arm attached again, he might be able to get the biggest portion and eat it with a spoon while walking. Jack is, of course, pulling his wallet out before Rhys even gets to ask for it.

The amount of ice-cream Rhys asks for manages to throw the CEO off a little, and he eyes him sceptically. “You are gonna be sick,” he shakes his head.

“No, ‘m not,” the young man shakes his head. “Vaughn says I’ve got a special organ for processing big amounts of ice-cream. I’ve once managed to—”

“I don’t wanna hear about it,” Jack stops him. “I’m getting fat just looking at it.”

Smirking, he retorts: “Oh please… I can do so much more.”

To everybody’s surprise, the ice-cream is gone before they even get to walk to the opposite end of the centre. Rhys isn’t feeling even a little sick, and so he can begin to truly enjoy the experience. He peeks into every shop that is open, curiously eying their assortments.

One shop catches his eyes the most.

“Did you really put a souvenir shop dedicated to you here?” he shakes his head as Jack laughs and pulls him inside. Suddenly, Rhys is surrounded by so much Jack that it almost becomes uncomfortable. Posters, mugs, funny t-shirts, Hyperion brand sunglasses; and then the things begin to get really creepy. (The dildo isn’t the worst thing by far.)

“I think we should start here,” Jack decides, still laughing. “Pick something. Look how many posters they’ve got! I might make one of the walls in your room into a _Me_ Shrine!” His speech is interrupted by fits of laughter every time Rhys’ gaze falls upon something freaky.

Rhys blushes especially hard when he passes by the dildo for the third time, the offending thing on display in the middle of the room. Jack is acting like a teenager again, laughing at that. And Rhys knows better than to display even the tiniest interest in anything in that shop, but one calendar catches his eyes.

He flips through the pages of the next year’s calendar. There are important moments in Hyperion’s history since Jack took over, captured for each month, with a little article about every one of them. He thinks this might come in handy, and he considers asking Jack to buy it for him, willing to stroke his ego a little. But then he jumps and squeaks as said CEO is suddenly behind him, resting his chin on the younger man’s shoulder as he looks at the calendar with interest.

“For God’s sake, Jack!” Rhys tries to elbow the stomach behind him, but the attack is dodged. The calendar is taken from his hand, Jack moving much faster than he would expect.

Without a word, Jack flips through the remaining three months, stopping at December. One of the vintage posters is there to portray the moment Jack took over Hyperion. Except, it’s not the poster. It’s not a digital painting, but the photo that inspired it.

“I like this one,” Jack mumbles, running a finger over his face in the calendar. “The photo is from my graduation. Timmy’s told me to pose like I own the world, so I did. We used this photo for the first wave of my propaganda.”

Rhys wanted to change his mind about the calendar, but now he wants it even more, for some reason. Maybe he is happy that Jack revealed a piece of himself, maybe he wants to see him young. Maybe it’s just a nice and handy calendar. “Can I have it?” Rhys asks.

Jack is cracking jokes and laughing again when they leave, Rhys carrying a simple bag with one Hyperion calendar and a yellow Hyperion t-shirt Jack forced him to take.

“So, we had some fun,” the CEO claps his hands together, excitement returning in a milder form, “now let’s get to the real business.”

What comes next is hell, and Rhys doesn’t deserve this.

The first shop is bearable. He picks t-shirts, more jeans, some colourful socks and matching underwear. He is happy about this purchase. But then Jack introduces him to his personal tailor. He is going to have a few pairs of nice pants and shirts tailored for him, _maybe a suit or two, tuxedo, some waistcoat to bring out—_

Rhys snapped a little at the older man, telling him that he is not a dress-up doll and he is definitely not stripping in that shop, so no trying on some of the half-sewn suits. The tailor took his measurements, careful not to reach into his personal space too much, not even insisting on Rhys taking off his hoodie anymore.

As an apology for _totally not trying to make a dress-up doll out of Rhys_ , Jack buys him a pile of chocolate even bigger than his earnings from the pseudo-concert he performed at the asylum.

Back on track, they walk through more shops, picking shirts, ties, more casual wear and _all the colourful socks_. All of them. Even though Jack keeps frowning at them in distaste, he keeps insisting Rhys buys anything he likes, even if it’s another bright pink pair with unicorns shitting rainbows. It makes Rhys want to test the limits, and so he ends up picking more awful designs, seeing if Jack refuses to buy some, but the older man doesn’t buck and keeps buying anything Rhys lays his eyes on.

They also visit a bookshop, Rhys buying more specialised books for the library. At the end of the day, it feels like Rhys ran a marathon, and he is terrified to look at the car’s storage space, afraid that the amount of bags and boxes he would see would make him sick. He never owned a lot of things, not even when leading a relatively normal life with his adoptive family. He feels spoiled.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brings more of Rhys' past, the truth about Jack's tattoo and smut! The best combination, am I rite? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

To nobody’s surprise, when Rhys unpacks all of the clothes, his huge wardrobe fills up. He has no space to put the various pairs of shoes to, and so he decides to put them under his bed. While doing so, he bumps into the old box of possessions he took with him to the asylum.

He hadn’t looked into the box in years. Always just carried it around or had it stored in the facility’s storage room for private possessions. Of course, Jack walks into the room – freshly showered – just as Rhys pulls the box out, staring at it with either hatred or determination.

“Damn, cupcake – if I were the box, I’d shat my square pants,” he whistles. “What’s inside? Cockroaches?”

“Worse,” he says, uncaring about how childish and wry that sounds. “My past. What’s left of it.”

There is a minute of silence filled only by staring – Rhys at the box, Jack at both the box and Rhys – and then the CEO walks over to him and sits on the bed. “Show me,” he says quietly. “Do you have a photo of yourself as a kid? I bet you were all small pouts and curly hair…” There is no mocking in the jab, the man’s voice kind and welcoming in ways nobody would have ever expected from Handsome Jack.

Rhys sighs, but he pulls himself up to sit next to Jack. “Alright. I’ll show you, but only if I get a massage afterwards. My shoulder hurts.”

“What a bargain,” Jack chuckles. “Good for you, kiddo. It’s important to know your price.”

Rhys starts pulling envelopes from the box. The first one is full of his documents, so he puts it aside. The next one is family photos. Those he can look at with less pain in heart than the photos from his late teens.

“So, yeah, this is me when my parents adopted me. Just a scrawny little kid with nothing but a birth certificate found in the middle of Pandora. Look how happy father looks,” he points to the man’s smiley face. He might have abandoned Rhys and his sisters as soon as the marriage broke, but he was a good father up to that point, so there aren’t any hard feelings.

“This is Fiona, the middle kid,” he points out the girl in another photo. She is jumping happily in the air, clutching a new doll. It’s Christmas. Rhys is there, too, in the corner of the picture, half of his body out of it. His cheeks are puffed in a pout, because he didn’t want to be in the photo. Naturally, this immediately catches Jack’s eyes and sends him into fits of laughter.

“Anyway, Sasha, the youngest of us,” Rhys fights to get the attention away from himself. “She was a little scared for the first year, didn’t trust anyone, expected to be abandoned or hurt. I was the first one she talked to more than a few words, her big brother.” Rhys lets himself visit some nicer memories, for a while ignoring Jack who flips through the photos.

When he is done daydreaming, Rhys reaches for the second envelope. “These are newer,” he says. “Taken after we were moved to the foster house.”

The change is almost too harsh. The last photo in the previous envelope was from a family trip to another town. Sure, it’s obvious in the photo that the couple grew distant, but the kids are still happy. The first photo in the next set is Rhys sitting on a hospital bed, smile wide, eyes half-lidded as he is doped on painkillers, and his arm is in a sling.

“I got in a fight – that I _won_ , mind you – when some kid tried to steal Sasha’s lunch. He never did it again, and for a moment, we felt powerful, that awesome feeling that you can make it if you stay together. It didn’t last, but we were still pretty happy.”

The next photo is his science project at school winning some competition. He is taking over the award. Rhys knows Fiona took the photo, and he knows Sasha stood right beside her. All three of them looked a little out of place at the school, clothes screaming _Pandoran_ and dirt on it screaming _poor_. But this moment, it was important. “I like to remember this. It was a stupid project, but it felt like I’m on my way to working for a big corporation like Hyperion, Atlas, Dahl, anyone. I’d make enough money to take care of all of us. Just because I won a science project,” he chuckles.

After a brief hesitation, Rhys hands the stack over to Jack. “You look at the rest yourself,” he prompts him.

Jack flips through the photos slowly, studying every detail. Whatever he is trying to find, he doesn’t show if he found it. But he notices a lot of details for sure.

“Gortys had white hair?” he asks.

“Yeah, naturally white,” Rhys nods, inhaling sharply. “You are holding the one where we are all in one car, right?” Not only did he know the order of the photos by heart, but he knows what makes the girl recognizable there.

“Yes. How did you all fit there?” he muses. “How many – six, seven kids? The car is made for four at max.”

“With the vision of alcohol and good music at the end of the journey,” Rhys chuckles, “teenagers can do anything, really.”

“You drove,” Jack noted next, giving him a cautious side-glance.

“Yes, I did,” Rhys tries to shrug, though he can’t manage to look completely indifferent. “I was a good driver, and I offered not to drink that night.”

Jack flips to another photo, and before he can say anything, Rhys fills him in, knowing what it is. “I love this one,” he says. “It was about four hours and ten drinks later, and it looks like any other party photo, but look at Elbie. The way he looks at Gortys. Great snapshot.” He is looking forward, at his wardrobe, but he can almost see the picture he memorised in the past.

“I’ve seen TimTams look at Wilhelm like this,” Jack laughs. “Love is weird.” He recoils a little, realising what he said, but Rhys just agrees. _It really is._

“Who’s the little piece of muscle?” Jack asks as he views more photos.

“Vaughn, my best friend,” Rhys smiles. “I told you about him. He works for you now.”

“Yeah, right. Accounting?”

“Yep.” Rhys dares a glance towards the photos with the answed, but his eyes slip right past, fixating on Jack’s tattoo. “There should be a photo of me after getting the tattoo. All red, swollen, and teary. Yeah, I cried,” he admits when Jack gives him an amused look. “You try getting a tattoo in Pandora. Not as comfy as what you get here.”

“Found it,” Jack chuckles as he flips through the photos. “You look wrecked, princess. How long did it take? Two hours?”

“Almost three,” Rhys retorts with a pout.

“And the whole group stayed with you all the time? They’ve seen you crying?”

Not understanding the point of the questions, Rhys eyes Jack, suspecting some trick. “Uhm, yeah? Why? They were my friends, and my sisters. I was less likely to get robbed or raped by the tattooist if I had a group of friends with me, and it’s not like it was the first time they saw my tears. That’s what friends are for.”

“Huh.” Jack huffs. “I guess…” He looks at the last few photos in silence. The last birthday party the group celebrated – Sasha’s. A photo of Rhys, Vaughn and Yvette, exactly one week after Elbie’s funeral, sitting in a fast food, all fake and broken smiles. And the last one – Rhys. Taken day after he woke up, day before he was deemed danger to himself.

Rhys hears shuffling, and Jack gives him the photos, already stuffed back in the envelope. “Thank you. I think my life wouldn’t be complete if I never got to see pouting baby-Rhys,” he jokes.

“Where is your tattoo from?” Rhys ask curiously. Sharing has always been like a game between them. He shared, now Jack needs to share too.

“I’d rather not, Rhysie…” Jack begins. “Don’t you want to hear a happy story now?”

“I don’t care if it’s sad,” he shrugs. “I’m just curious. It’s not mentioned in Tim’s book; or, it’s not on the cover picture. So, I guess you got it much later…?”

“Persistent, stubborn little…” Jack mutters, but he gives in. He can hardly say no to Rhys. It’s even worse than Angel. “I got it after my wife died,” he explains.

Rhys has had more dignified moments in his life. He is sure that gasping and slapping a hand over his mouth is not the right reaction to give to that. In a high-pitched voice muttering: “Sorry, I didn’t know that. You don’t need to talk about it. I’m really sorry for bring—”

“No, it’s alright,” Jack shushes him, rubbing his shoulder. “It… The tattoo… My wife came from Tantalus, like me. Underdeveloped country, much like Promethea, maybe worse. This sign has a meaning in the local’s culture. Culture which she – for some reason I still don’t get – liked. The culture of thieves, murderers and assholes like ol’ grams. Who would like to cherish the culture that told my mother’s mother to try and burn my brother alive?!”

He comes down from his momentarily indignation quick, gently squeezing Rhys’ hand for a second before talking again. “It means that I am a widower. That I miss the woman that brought sun to my life, literally. I hate Tantalus, hate the people, but I wanted to do this for my wife. I know she would appreciate it.”

Sensing the story is over, Rhys dares his luck with one more question. “How did she die?”

The CEO shakes his head, suddenly straightening. “Maybe some other day, pumpkin,” he says, and then the last trace of emotions and vulnerability, disappears from his face. “So, I promised you a massage?” he reminds.

“Yes, you did,” Rhys nods, trying to look and feel smug. He missed this, and he wants to enjoy it. “A good, long, thorough massage. Nothing less.”

Jack laughs but starts rummaging through Rhys’ bed nightstand for the massage oil. “Strip and lie down. I’m gonna give you a massage of a lifetime,” he boasts.

“You already did, once,” Rhys giggles. The memory makes him blush a little, and so he gladly plops face-down on the bed as soon as he removes his clothes. “Oh, wait!” he shoots up again. “Can you wait a few minutes? I’m gonna have a quick shower. Real quick!” he promises, already running off to Jack’s laughter and teasing.

He considers the shower a necessity – he doesn’t want the scented oil to be mixing with day-worth of sweat. It also gives him a chance to relax, get all the bad thoughts out of his head. All the memories washed off with warm water.

When he is out, wrapped in a towel, Jack jokes that now it looks like he is an SPA employee, about to give a spoiled rich kid a massage. Rhys makes sure to give him an arrogant look-down and tells him in a condescending tone to make it great if he wants a tip. He receives a playful smack on the butt for that, and then Jack begins.

And holy crap, it’s even better than the last time. He starts from Rhys’ neck, then shoulders, working the right one so well that Rhys is ready to forget it’s even there. Feels like it’s been replaced by pink cotton candy.

The massage of his back has him moaning softly and unmoving, and it’s taking a similar path as the last time already. Jack doesn’t even bother to be subtle this time. The way he kneads Rhys’ thighs tells a lot about his intentions, and when he starts kneading his ass like it was dough, like he fucking owns it, Rhys is harder than he’s ever been.

When Rhys lets out a particularly filthy moan, Jack steps up the game with a few dirty whispers to his ear. An oil-slicked finger dips into Rhys’ ass, and Jack stats working him open with the same precision and skill he showed during the massage. If Rhys was able to move, he’d tell the older man to hurry up, but he is a happy mush, he can’t, and so he just lets good things happen.

When Jack is moving three fingers in and out with ease, he finally, _finally_ puts a little of the oil on his cock and begins to push in. When the head is in, he stops, even though Rhys’ moans are more than encouraging. “Everything alright, pumpkin? Should I slow down?” There is no hint in his voice that it’s a joke, but Rhys takes it as such.

“No, something is very wrong,” he says, barely managing to put any edge to his voice. “You are not moving. Could you, possibly, fix that?”

Jack chuckles, but he finally starts moving again, slowly pushing in until he’s bottomed out. He groans, muttering some more dirty things that Rhys doesn’t care about at all, because he feels so full, so pleasantly full.

“Fuck, Jack… Move, please, I need—” He’s cut off when Jack does as he was told, pulling out and slowly thrusting back in. “Ohhh, fuck!” Rhys moans. He prays to God that the walls are really soundproof. He pushes himself up on his forearm, craning his neck to demand a kiss, which Jack happily gives.

They fuck slowly like that, more concentrated on the kisses than the actual fucking, for a few minutes, but then Jack pulls out. He helps Rhys to flip around and lay on his back. Immediately, he thrusts back into him and Rhys wraps his legs around Jack’s waist, pulling him down for another kiss with his arm.

The pace is faster this time, they both nearing their finish when Jack starts aiming for Rhys’ prostate. He uses one hand to reach down and jerk him off in time with the thrusts, and Rhys comes with a cry that he doesn’t even try to muffle. Jack fucks him for another minute, careful not to push him too much, to overwhelm him.

When Rhys recognises the signs of Jack’s orgasm, his thrusts erratic and more forceful, he quickly wraps his legs around him tighter. “Please, come inside,” he begs, and Jack does so with a yell of _fuck!_

They both breathe hard when Jack collapses on Rhys, almost crushing him, but even that feels nice. He tightens his hold around the older man to mutely tell him not to dare to move. Rhys falls asleep not long after, exhausted and relaxed.


	17. Chapter 17

“Wake up, you sack of potatoes.”

Not the warm good-morning kiss Rhys expected, but it makes him laugh anyway. Jack is being Jack. He tries to slap the man with a pillow, but he moves away without a problem, much more awake and agile than the younger man.

“Come on, work is calling.” Jack takes the offending pillow from his hand and kisses him on the forehead. “You can stay home if you want, but I don’t wanna see you pouting later.”

With a groan, Rhys rolls himself over, and then again, until his knees meet the floor. He pulls himself to his feet, heading to the shower. He gives a quick glance to the fish tank, making sure all the other fish are alright.

When he is finished, there is clothes put out for him on the sink. A pair of nice pants, dress shirt, silky tie and a waist coat. Jack is making a dress-up doll out of him again.

His arm is missing, probably still charging in the bedroom, and so he walks out only in the slacks, still unbuttoned. He puts the arm on, flexes his hand a few times to make sure everything works, and then he puts on the rest of the clothes.

Jack is waiting for him in the kitchen, fresh croissants in a plastic box, coffee in a thermo mug.

“You are perfect,” Rhys almost moans as he sips his coffee.

“Of course, I am,” Jack brushes him off, earning a pouty glare. “Let’s go, cupcake. We might even arrive on time if we take off now.” He sounds genuinely surprised by that, and Rhys pouts even more.

As always, Rhys falls asleep during the drive to the office. Most of the employees they meet are in the same state as him, and Jack takes pleasure in startling them awake.

Several hours later, all the croissants are gone, Rhys had another coffee, and he is slowly getting the hang of things again. Jack is making calls, as he usually did in the morning, threatening people, occasionally glancing at his PA and smiling. Rhys’ work became much easier when he could use his own hand as a helping hand, but he still likes the fancy paperweight Jack lent him.

After having a snack, Jack puts on a mischievous smile. Rhys doesn’t like it.

“What’s going on, Jack?” he asks, suspiciously looking the CEO up and down as he slowly walks to his desk.

“A surprise,” Jack says mysteriously, coming to sit on Rhys’ desk, right in front of him. “And I’m glad you haven’t figured it out yet. Sometimes, you see right through me. But not this time, I guess. Oh, Rhysie, you are gonna _love_ this…”

Each of Jack’s words raises more suspicion in the younger man, and he folds his arms on his chest defensively. “What surprise?” he asks, trying not to sound nervous. He hopes Jack didn’t get some crazy idea.

“Any second now; don’t be impatient,” Jack smirks. He turns his gaze to the door, and Rhys does the same. Soon, there is the tell-tale buzz telling them that someone is at the door. “Let him in, Wil!” Jack calls and hops off the desk, quickly walking to his place.

Rhys watches the door open, ready to run or hide under the table if there is something unpleasant. Jack’s behaviour had weirded him out. But what he sees— _who_ he sees…

“Y-you wished to speak t-to me, Mr Handsome Jack, sir?” a short man in a white shirt walks in, slightly trembling.

“I did not,” Jack says, probably enjoying the fear of his employee like he always does. “He did,” he leans his head to the side, looking at Rhys. Vaughn does the same.

There is a moment of silence, two young men staring at each other wide-eyed. Rhys is the first one to laugh. “You should see your face right now, bro,” he giggles.

“You should see your face!” Vaughn retorts. “Bro.”

They both erupt into laughter, and Rhys finally jumps out of his chair, practically running to Vaughn to hug him, raise him in the air, and—

“Rhys, you’ve got an arm! An arm! There is an arm! On you!” Vaughn pats his shoulder, and as soon as he is on the ground again, examines the cybernetic.

“I already told you, you dork!” Rhys laughs. “I’ve sent you pictures!”

“But it’s moving!” Vaughn exclaims, and Rhys flips him off with the metallic arm. “That’s so cool!”

Rhys laughs again, and the sound is wet. Only then does he realise that he is crying. Vaughn is too, and they both laugh and sob like two idiots, like when they got drunk together for the first time and they were sick but so happy. Like when the world was normal.

“Stop crying; you’re making me emotional!” Vaughn lightly scolds him.

“You stop crying!” Rhys bumps his shoulder.

“Not to interrupt your moment,” Jack speaks behind him, startling them both. While Rhys laughs and elbows the CEO, Vaughn straightens and starts stammering. “Easy there, shorty. I just wanted to tell my personal assistant that I’m headed to a meeting.” He kisses Rhys’ cheek and walks out.

Rhys is torn for a second, and then he tells Vaughn to wait here and runs after Jack. The CEO stops before stepping into the elevator, looking at Rhys in confusion. The younger man doesn’t stop, however, and runs straight into him, pressing Jack against the wall next to the elevators and kissing him like it was their last time.

When they finally part, he grins. “Just wanted to say thank you.”

For once, Jack is stunned silent, and he looks kind of dumb as he gapes at his boyfriend. That makes Rhys grin even more. He returns to the office, leaving Jack to compose himself and go to his meeting.

* * *

Rhys spent the hour and a half with Vaughn exchanging stories about their past few days, because they already shared everything else. Vaughn was excited to give Rhys some photos to add to his collection – a photo from his and Yvette’s wedding, and one selfie she snapped when Vaughn got his latest promotion. They both were happy, and he loved the photos, but he insisted Rhys keeps them, because Vaughn can have a copy made anytime.

Rhys, in turn, talked about Jack. Stupidly much, but he just needed to share. Told Vaughn about the terrible tie knot Rhys made for Jack, told him about how they found a way to each other again, how Rhys spilled the tea on himself. For the sake of his friend’s sanity, Rhys avoided details about them sleeping together.

“Man, I’m glad you are happy,” Vaughn smiles at him. “It’s weird, but I guess we never really deserved normal, right?”

“Guess we didn’t,” Rhys nods.

But the shorter man couldn’t not ask. “Listen, I don’t wanna seem, you know, like I don’t approve of you, but are you really alright with Jack being Handsome Jack? With all the shit he unleashed on Pandora…”

Rhys closes his eyes, but he could still see the Hyperion Vision on the shelf in front of him. “I try not to think about him like this. He is not some… I dunno. He is different than people think. He is a good man.”

“He treats you right?”

“Spoils me beyond belief,” Rhys chuckles.

“Then he is good to me.” Vaughn’s smile is an old man’s smile. It seems out of place on Rhys’ friend’s face. They were just kids when they met, and they were still kids when they all went their separate ways, but now they are working men, shirts and ties, and all that crap…

“We are old, bro,” Rhys sighs.

“Yeah, you know, I learned to really like that thought…” Vaughn squirms for a while, but who is a better person to tell than Rhys? “I finished school, married, got a cubicle job, moved my way up. Me and Yvette are having a baby… I am old. And that means I survived. I escaped the fate.”

* * *

Vaughn’s words reverberate through Rhys for the rest of the day. They cause both warmth and uneasiness. As truth usually does.

After leaving the office, Jack drives Rhys to a pet store. The employees, most of them students on part-time, stare at the CEO with wide eyes, trembling and stuttering as they try to please their undoubtedly richest customer ever.

“Hey, you, kid,” Jack picks one employee, pointing a finger at them. “We want a fish. Ideally, some that would resemble a _boletus fabaceae_. Or, you know, a _boletus fabaceae_ , silver one, but I think I bought the last one you had last time I was here.”

While the kid, probably few years younger than Rhys, scrambles around, trying to find the right fish tank, Rhys gives Jack a sceptical look. “How’d you know the scientific name of that fish? You don’t strike me as an aquarist…”

Jack gives him a playful grin, and Rhys is not even a little surprised at the answer. “They make drugs out of these little guys. Cool stuff. I might have tried. Wasn’t able to smell anything for weeks. Don’t do that.”

“Typical…” Rhys rolls his eyes, but the image this puts into his brain is weirdly exciting. Imagining Jack young and high…

The shop assistant comes back. “Sirs, w-we don’t have any more fish from that family, but I have something that might interest you.” He leads them towards an aquarium with three identical fish. They are all silvery, turning blue when the light catches on their scales just right, like the previous fish-Rhys. But these ones have short yellow flippers instead of long blue veil-like ones.

“Won’t do,” Jack hums dismissively. “It looks cheap, plain. Don’t you have some with the long nice tails?”

“I like it, Jack,” Rhys pleads. “Just look at the fins!” He raises his right arm, showing a bit of the yellow plating. It inevitably catches the shop assistant’s eye, and his mouth falls open. Rhys blushes and hides his arm in his sleeve.

Jack glares at the kid, but then he smiles at Rhys. “Okay, your choice. We’re buying that little guy.”

Home again, when _Rhys II_ joins the rest of the fish in the bathroom, Rhys finally musters the courage to talk to Jack about what Vaughn told him. He taps the wall of the tank, grimacing when the golden fish, Jack, tries to attack his finger and bumps its head on the invisible barrier.

“Thanks,” he says at first, looking at Jack who is leaning on the bathtub again. “For the fish, and for Vaughn.”

Jack smiles, undoubtedly about to come up with some joke or jab. He is still wearing sunglasses and haven’t washed off the make up yet, and so Rhys crosses the distance between them and takes the glasses off his face.

The CEO’s eyebrows crawl up his forehead slowly as he tries to make sense of what happened. “Rhysie,” he says in a low tone, though it doesn’t sound like he was really mad. “If someone else did this, I’d cut their hands off, and then had them shipped to Tantalus.”

“Better than Pandora, I guess,” Rhys shrugs, grinning when that makes Jack’s face turn sour. “Anyway, I just wanted to talk, and wanted to see your eyes.”

Jack, of course, immediately makes him regret that, because he gives Rhys full attention, making him squirm a little. He knows what he is doing, and he smirks, pulling Rhys close by his hips, so he can stare him directly in the eyes.

“It’s just, what Vaughn said,” Rhys begins. He rests his forehead on Jack’s shoulder, deciding to escape his gaze and seek comfort. “He thinks we are out of the danger zone. He doesn’t have the dark thoughts anymore, nor does Yvette.”

When Rhys makes a pause, Jack grips him just a little bit tighter. “You are not out of the danger zone yet, babe,” he reminds, kissing Rhys’ temple.

“No,” Rhys shakes his head. “But maybe— Maybe Sasha and Fiona are…” His breath hitches, but he is glad he said it. “I want to find them.”

Jack pulls him impossibly closer, almost pushing the air out of Rhys with his hug. “You don’t want to go to Pandora, do you?” He doesn’t sound nervous or scared. But Rhys can see through the mask, and he knows that Jack is worried for him.

“No, that would be… stupid, dangerous and pointless,” he assures him, squirming free so he can kiss the underside of Jack’s jaw. “I don’t think they are in Pandora. They wanted to leave, just like me.”

“We’ll find them, then,” Jack promises, and life gets a little bit more awesome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boletus fabaceae is a mushroom in the game and real life both, but you know what? YOLO! It’s a fish now. Come and fight me. :D


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: This work will probably go on a haitus. Not now, I still have couple chapters to post, but it probably will happen. I won't leave you with a cliffhanger, though, don't worry. ;)

“Everybody’s coming; it’s a tradition,” Jack basically _pleads_ Rhys.

The younger man is hesitant. There will be a lot of people at the party, most of them strangers, and Jack’s attention will be on them. Angel will probably sneak out with Gaige, and Tim will spend most of the night by Wilhelm’s side. Rhys won’t have anybody to talk to, and staying home, watching the fireworks on TV, sounds like a much better plan.

“Jack, I don’t want to go,” he says. “I really don’t mind staying home alone. I just don’t want the party to go like the last one.”

Jack winces but quickly pulls it together. He is stubborn when he wants something, and although he usually does anything he sees in the younger man’s eyes, he is set on bringing him to the party. His negotiation tactic keeps switching between small tantrums like he was a five-year-old, bribing and sweet promises of kissing while watching fireworks.

In the end, Rhys says yes, tired of repeating _no_ over and over again. He makes Jack promise he will be taking him to the gym with him, _finally_ , as he already promised a few times, and then he starts dressing up.

They arrive late, thanks to him, but Jack doesn’t seem to care, and Rhys certainly doesn’t care. The Hyperion New Year’s gala is happening at the company’s headquarters, so at least he knows where he is and how to get home.

As expected, Angel and Gaige are hiding somewhere, and Tim spends time by the main door, “getting fresh air” suspiciously often. Coincidently, Wilhelm’s position happens to be by the main door to the building. Axton is somewhere stalking after Angel, on Jack’s command, and Jack is surrounded by three random bodyguards and a flock of middle and upper managers who got to go to the party, fighting for his attention.

Rhys is left rolling his eyes at the people, sipping his non-alcoholic sweet drink. He tries to find somebody in the crowds who he could talk to, like Scooter, who he can discuss his new knowledge about engines with, but he is probably somewhere with his family; he is not Hyperion.

Rhys’ eyes fall on Zed Rogers. Interesting man, actually. Weeks ago, on the birthday party, Rhys had no idea why would Jack introduce them. To him, it was just a random dude. But this week, he met him again.

Rhys was just folding a piece of paper to create an origami dove, not bored but stuck on a calculation he knew he should be able to make but couldn’t remember the correct method to use. So, he busied himself with this, hoping it will come to him.

The man walked in without knocking, without being let in. He gave the PA one arrogant look, and then he ignored him.

He talked in a strange way. Most of his speech were little poems, haikus. And even the parts that weren’t, Rhys didn’t understand. It was like a code speech, and later he learned that it actually was.

Zed Rogers, or Zer0, was a hitman. He was Jack’s right hand when he needed dirty work done. _“He is like a machine,”_ Jack said about him later. _“You put money in, illegal job done without a trace falls out._ _The man can get you – or get you rid of – anything, for the right price.”_

Rhys could see why the CEO of Hyperion would keep such a man around. Not only that he was useful, but he was loyal – something Jack valued.

The man must have noticed Rhys’ staring, because he started walking towards him. His face was an unreadable mask, even more mysterious than Jack’s. His expression was always the same, rock-cold, hard lines. His face barely moved when he spoke. It was probably caused by some injury, but Rhys found it cool and fitting for the man.

“Hi,” he greeted him. “I’m Rhys, Jack’s personal assistant. We’ve met on his birthday,” he reminds.

“I know,” the man says simply, inspecting Rhys’ face like there was something on it. He even tilts his head as he looks at him. “Interesting man; a child playing with fire; once burnt but still brave. Oh, I’ve heard a lot about you, Rhys Strongfork.”

Having no idea what that means, Rhys laughs nervously, eyes seeking Jack, who is, of course, nowhere to be seen. “Thanks, I guess…” he scratches the back of his neck. “I’ve heard about you too. You are kind of a legend, right?”

“That is true,” he says, head still almost disturbingly unmoving.

“Why do you call yourself Zer0?” Rhys asks. He is nervous, and that usually means babbling. “I mean, you are a legend, number one. Or, more like Ten Million, right…?”

Zed’s head tilts to the other side. “I might be called Zer0, but I’m still a bigger number than you.”

Rhys is stunned at first, but then he giggles. “Yeah, I guess you—”

“Piss off, Rogers,” Jack speaks behind Rhys so suddenly that if he didn’t wrap his arms around his waist at the same time, Rhys would jump away from him. “Or play nice with the other kids, at least,” the CEO gives the hitman a hard glare.

Zed straightens out, looks at Rhys one more time, and then he bows slightly and leaves. Rhys shudders, goosebumps appearing on his skin like he was still being watched, even though the man now has his back to him.

“Interesting person,” he says.

Jack shakes his head. “Sometimes, I think he is a complete lunatic. He acts like he was from another planet. But he is good at his job, so…” he shrugs. He pulls Rhys closer and kisses him on the forehead. “Did you eat anything yet? Come grab some food with me.”

To Rhys’ disappointment, Jack only stayed with him for long enough to eat some finger food, and then he was in the crowd of his admirers again. It became easier to find him in there once Rhys learned to notice that the gap among heads means that three bodyguards are keeping the people from approaching their boss too personally. The gap kept moving, which was fun to watch, as people bumped into each other to make way.

Rhys eventually found himself a place to sit where both food and drinks were near enough, and he watched the party, bored. This situation changed, however, when more and more people accepted the fact that Handsome Jack won’t give them more than a few seconds of his precious attention on this party, and they already wasted that time. More and more people sought another target.

“Excuse me, Mr…?” a young man approached Rhys.

“Rhys Strongfork,” he introduced himself. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, Mr Strongfork, you see, my name is Jeremy Howard, I work here at Research and Development, and I believe my project would interest our CEO, but my meeting requests are always declined…” He showed what he probably believed was a sheepish smile but came off creepy to Rhys. The man was trying to flatter his way to the CEO through his PA.

“I can’t help you with that,” Rhys stood up from his chair. “Now, please, excuse me.”

The retreat strategy could, however, only work four or five times. More people came to him to beg for an appointment, to talk about their _mind_ - _blowing_ ideas and _ground_ - _breaking_ projects, or just to make his life a nightmare.

Rhys found himself hoping that Jack would get jealous that his PA has so much attention, especially when the younger managers didn’t hesitate to flirt with him, trying to buy him drinks, but the big man was too happy peacocking among his fans.

Help came from someone unexpected.

“Move,” spoke a deep voice Rhys recognised. For some reason, it made him shiver and want to run, just as the old man who was currently trying to explain to him that he is the _biggest_ Handsome Jack fan, and he _must_ see him right next Monday.

As all the managers and other employees seemed to suddenly remember that they have somewhere else to be, retreating from around Rhys, he sighed. “Thank you,” he told the mysterious hitman. “Those people just don’t know what no means.”

Zed Rogers didn’t say anything else, but he stayed by Rhys’ side, basically standing guard. Whenever someone approached him and didn’t leave after the first no, Zed warded them off. In his free time, Rhys soon gave up on trying to make a conversation with him. The only answer he got from him was a simple no when he asked if Jack sent him, and then there was only silence. So, he started putting together the angry speech he was going to give the CEO when this party was over. Jack won’t know what hit him; Rhys was so angry.

Half an hour before midnight, though, everything changed again. Jack told his bodyguards to not let anyone else near, and he sought Rhys with a big grin on his face that almost instantly made the younger man’s pout disappear. “Come on, cupcake!” he took his hands. “Let’s enjoy the rest of the night together!”

“After leaving me alone for three hours?” he asked with a frown. “I’ll never go to any of your parties again, Jack.”

For a second, Jack looked genuinely guilty, and it made Rhys feel a little better. Then he grinned again and promised in his typical cocky manner that he will make him change his mind.

Jack led him to another hall, adjacent to the one with food and places to sit. Rhys didn’t even notice the party is happening in two places, and he curses himself for that. Not that he is interested in dancing alone, but if he actually got up and looked around here, he would find Angel and Gaige, who seemed more than happy sitting next to the source of music, surrounded by suspiciously lot of free space. Axton probably did a similar job as Zed. (Come to think about it, Zed disappeared shortly before Jack appeared. Strange, maybe?)

“Do I have a chance to avoid this?” Rhys asks, a little annoyed, a little intrigued, as Jack pulls him towards the dance floor.

“No,” the older man answers with a smirk. “I’m not gonna let ya dance away at midnight, princess, so get ready for a long dance.”

“People will see us together,” Rhys reminded, but he let himself be positioned with his legs slightly spread, Jack’s right knee between his.

“My employees know better than to take a photo of us and try to sell it,” Jack dismisses it. “And as far as it is only the employees knowing, who cares? You are safe with me.”

They start dancing – Jack with style and energy you could expect from the CEO of Hyperion, Rhys with the grace of a paralysed worm. But judged by the look Axton gives them, sitting not far from the girls, but not too close either, they don’t look too bad.

Rhys doesn’t escape kisses and wandering touches this time. It’s like Jack is making a point. Like he is trying to fix the dance they shared on the birthday party.

The PA doesn’t get to run away like a princess at midnight, because he is being pulled towards the exit. They meet Wilhelm and Timothy, who certainly _weren’t_ holding hands before they saw the other pair, and together they walk to the big and now almost empty parking lot in front of the building.

Jack gives Rhys his jacket when Rhys’ blazer isn’t enough to keep him warm in the crisp air, and then the fireworks start. Some people count down the new year and cheer, but Rhys is too fascinated by the blooming lights. It’s something completely different seeing it live.

Jack hugs the younger man from behind, letting him rest the back of his head on his shoulder. Neither of them says anything, because that moment doesn’t need that. The blasts and people’s cheers are enough noise to make the atmosphere just right.

At some point, Wilhelm grumbles _fuck it_ and pulls Tim close, kissing him like no tomorrow. The younger twin tries to pull away just for a moment, and then gives up.

“It’s not like there is anybody who doesn’t know about you two,” Jack rolls his eyes at his brother’s bashfulness, but it goes completely ignored. And he probably wouldn’t say that if he thought there is even the slightest chance that the twin would hear him, because he knows that his little brother has a good reason to be scared of letting his interest publicly known. An ugly old memory that still makes the skin on one of his legs a little darker than the rest of his body.

Jack shivered a little.

“Are you cold? You can take your jacket, I can stand a little cold,” Rhys offers.

“I think I need something more effective,” the older man retorts with a smirk, tilting Rhys’ head to the side for a kiss.

When they parted, Rhys hummed, closing his eyes and leaning on Jack. “Mmm, please tell me that you aren’t waking up at three today,” he sighed.

“You can sleep alone if you mind,” Jack teased.

“Like I could get you out of my bed!” Rhys retorted. “You are the one who sneaks next to me at midnight to sneak out at three.”

The CEO muttered something about Rhys being asleep, so how could he know, and gives up, tilting Rhys’ head back so he watches the fireworks and not his sour face.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first half of this chapter is dedicated to Sparky! ^.^
> 
> I actually like this chapter, yaay!

Working with Jack has so many good perks to it. Sweet pastry for breakfast, three coffees by 9 AM, if Rhys wants. The most comfortable rolling chair he can spin on when Jack is not around. Or when he is. They had a competition, once! Whoever can spin faster and longer chooses what’s for dinner. Jack won, that damn bastard.

Rhys learned a lot in a short time, always much more from working here than from sitting with a book. The employees from R&D that wanted to talk to Jack about their brilliant ideas didn’t hesitate to tell them to his PA when asked, and Rhys listened carefully, making notes for Jack, and learning.

He got to see him ruling the biggest company on the planet like it was nothing to him. He could read through a report that kept Rhys busy for an hour in less than two minutes. He knew a good project from a bad one the second a person started speaking, or so it seemed. He _charmed_ his investors and the board members. And any time things went exactly how Jack planned, he did that _pose_. The one Rhys got to know back in the asylum. He leaned back in his chair, spread his legs. His body language showed everyone that he owns this place and this situation.

He got to spend the whole day with him, and that was a prize on its own. By now, he’d seen Jack tired like a puppy, excited like a child, bored out of his mind, angry, resembling a god of war, hungry and cranky, doped on caffeine, lacking caffeine, fast, slow, pleased, disappointed, smug…

But the moods weren’t all, because Rhys loved Jack being just _Jack_ maybe even more. When he ran his hands through his hair while working on something, when he chewed his pencil so much he had to trash it and get a new one, when he chewed a pen and accidentally drew over his mouth and then started swearing, running off to the bathroom to fix his perfect face.

Most of all, Rhys loved seeing the effect _he_ had on Jack. When the CEO was too angry, pacing, screaming at anybody who dared to try and talk to him in that moment, Rhys silently crept up behind him and hugged him, helping him find his ground and calm down.

And Jack repaid the favours in the best ways. When Rhys was feeling down, something made him sad, nervous, or just feel wrong, he would come to Jack’s chair, he wouldn’t have to say anything and he would be allowed to sit in his lap, curled up into a tight ball, basking in his boyfriend’s warmth and the familiar scent of his cologne. Jack would hold him tight protectively. With both strong arms when Rhys was tense, with one arm – the other one working – only when he felt the younger man is feeling better. He would never push him away, and Rhys knew he can always come to Jack when he needs to feel safe, warm and loved.

Something changed in the Lawrence mansion, too. The first time Angel casually came to sit next to Jack on the sofa and told him about her day, he was confused. He later asked Rhys what happened, and the younger man flicked his nose, for once feeling like he has something to teach Jack. “She did what a normal daughter would do with a normal father. She talked with you. I think she is giving you a chance to fix your relationship.” Jack remained confused, but it stamped down his worries.

Timothy, Jack and Angel talked. A lot. Rhys was present too, but he usually fell asleep to the sound of Jack’s voice. Sometimes, the twins talked, shared stories. Other times, Tim read passages from his latest book (and Jack never allowed him to skip even the slightest bit, claiming that he can _sense_ when he is skipping, but Rhys knew that Jack had already read the book so many times that he memorised it). Then they would compare it to the truth, how it really happened. Angel loved to finally learn about her family’s past.

Rhys fell asleep in Jack’s arms every night, with rare exceptions when he didn’t wake up even as the older man carried him up the stairs. He would tease him for that, but just slightly. Never mean. Always nice to Rhys.

* * *

There is finally snow in Helios. It’s almost the end of January when the city gets its first white cover of the season. Jack spends the drive to work grumpy, having to drive slowly and carefully because of the freezing. Rhys sleeps through the ride, and he misses most of the snow.

It’s a bad day – they both learn that soon.

First, Rhys hits his forehead on a doorframe. He missed the door, the huge gap meant for people to walk through, and hit the frame partially. That all because of his stupid left eye. His sight in that eye is bad, and it messes with his stereoscopic vision. Sometimes, it makes him miss things he is trying to pick up; sometimes, it makes a complete fool out of him. It takes Jack some hugs and giving up his chocolate muffin to calm Rhys down, tears of shame soaking both their shirts.

Then, Jack fires five people before even starting his morning call-and-threaten routine. They were spies, he explains. And he hates spies, traitors and back-stabbers.

The memory of Jack’s past accusations against Rhys sets the younger man’s nerves off, but the uneasiness isn’t the cause of his accident.

He was trying to fix a small robot he found in the trash in R&D. It was Atlas-made, and the engineers were trying to reverse-engineer it, but they eventually gave up. Rhys wanted to give it a try, and so the reports and plans he should actually be working on got pushed aside, his desk becoming a small workstation.

Then it exploded in his face.

He got away with a few burn marks on his hand, but it scared both him and Jack. Rhys was trembling for another half an hour, sitting on the sofa wrapped in a blanket. He was deep in thought when Jack approached him.

The small explosion was his own fault, and Rhys knew it. Jack knew it – he was the one to tell Rhys. The mistake he made when reattaching wires to a live source was a rookie mistake. Nobody with basic education would do something like this. But Rhys didn’t have basic education, because he grew up in freaking Pandora and tried to kill himself before finally becoming something more than a bandit.

“You alright there?” Jack asked with concern.

“Yeah, just thinking…” Rhys pulls the blanket closer around himself. “That was a stupid mistake.”

“Yeah, it was,” Jack agrees. “But nothing serious happened, and you won’t do it again. Don’t cry over spilled milk, Rhysie.” He leaned in to kiss the tip of his nose, and then massaged his shoulder briefly.

“I’ve called someone to take you home. I… have a bad feeling about all of this,” he gesticulated vaguely. “This is a bad day,” Rhys couldn’t but agree, “and bad days only get worse.” Again, Rhys nodded. “I’d feel much better if you went home, slept off the shock and then spent the day with Tim. Is it okay?”

Rhys would like to feel offended at being treated like a child, but he feels the same. This was going to be a bad day, only the beginning almost getting him hurt. He was also weirdly tired after the shock he got, and he supposed that sleep will make the fatigue go away. “Okay, yeah,” he agreed.

“Great! I’ve already messaged Tim. He wanted to shop online for some clothes, so he is excited to have someone to help him pick. Though, I’m not sure how exactly are _you_ supposed to be helpful…” he teased, and Rhys pouted at him half-heartedly. “I’ll have someone drive you home. He should be there soon.”

“Wilhelm?” It was the logical conclusion, the man always at hand.

“No, Zed Rogers.”

Rhys’ eyebrows shot up. The hitman? “Why him?” he asked, rightfully confused. “It’s just a ride home.”

“Yeah, but I want you to be safe, babe,” Jack wrapped his arms around him, and Rhys noted how tense the CEO is. “I have a really bad feeling about today. Maybe… Would you mind napping in the living room where someone can—”

“Jack, I’m not gonna ditch my bed because you are afraid that I will disappear when nobody is watching me!” Rhys lightly scolded him, but it was warming that his boyfriend cared so much. “I’ll nap exactly for two hours and then help Tim spend all of your money, alright? And we will send you photos of the craziest pieces we’ll see.”

Jack visibly relaxed, kissed him and nodded. “That sounds amazing, sweetheart. But make it at least three hours. You need it.” He ruffled Rhys’ hair, earning a playful jab in the ribs, and then Zer0 walked in.

“Okay, you both know what to do. Drive safe!” Jack winked at Rhys while he spoke, barely paying attention to his subordinate. Then, they are out the door.

Rhys finds it weird all the way down to the garages that he is bothered by the fact that neither him or Jack said goodbye. They will see each other soon, so why would they? The day is just getting to him, probably.

To his surprise, Zed makes small talk when they get to his car. “How do you like this job? I didn’t see you around before, supposed you don’t really work here.”

Rhys paused for a second. He shouldn’t be telling the truth to anybody, it’s dangerous. He still has appointments with his therapist twice a month, and he eats so much medicine daily, if somebody knew that Jack basically paid him out of the asylum, and kept him in his house, there could be trouble.

But he supposes that Rogers is something like a friend to Jack. He was on his birthday party, right?

“I started going in regularly only recently,” he explains. “I was working for Jack at home before, but now I feel confident enough to really do some work for Hyperion.”

As soon as the engine of the car starts, Zer0’s talkative mood is gone. He asks only a few more, similar questions, and Rhys doesn’t think much of it.

He doesn’t usually pay attention to the road – either asleep or tired – but after a few minutes of driving, Rhys realises that he doesn’t recognise the buildings and streets around him. He shrugs it off at first, thinking that Zed is trying to avoid the traffic situation in the city centre. But he starts paying more attention.

Coldness creeps up his back when he realises that they are leaving the city. He scrambles for the com Jack gave him, but Zed snatches it from his hand without a problem. He rolls his window down and throws the comm away just as they drive over the bridge leading out of the city.

“What’s going on?!” Rhys asks, voice high and pathetic. But he doesn’t get an answer.

It’s a frustrating situation. There is literally nothing Rhys can do. The car is moving fast, and he would die jumping out. The same, or worse, would happen if he tried to fight with Zed. The only thing left is speaking.

“If this i-is some attempt to get money out of Jack—”

“This is just business,” Zed brushes him off.

Rhys gulps. Why is he being kidnapped – he is being kidnapped, right? – if not for money? “J-Jack will pay you more than them,” he offers.

“It is not much, actually.”

“T-then why would you do this? J-Jack can pay you.” Rhys feels himself beginning to truly panic. “Why— What— Take me back, and Jack will pay you. W-w-why would you do this if they a-aren’t paying you m-much?”

For the first time, Zed’s face moves. He fixes his eyes on Rhys, a hint of a smile on his lips. “It is personal.”

* * *

At some point of their drive, still not far from Helios, the highest buildings visible on the horizon, Zed stops. From nowhere, he pulls out a gun and points it at Rhys, telling him to take his arm off. They leave it on the car rest and drive off.

Zed doesn’t speak again, no matter how much Rhys tries to reason with him or plead. Eventually, he gives up.

They drive for hours. Rhys hadn’t been so far from Helios since he was brought there five years ago. He doesn’t know the city’s surroundings. Hell, he isn’t sure he knows how Elpis looks and what other cities it has. He knows maybe Concordia, but that’s it.

The last hour they drive on roads without signs. They meet no cars, and when the sun falls and they drive through darkness, Rhys loses the last bit of hope of figuring out where he is being taken.

If he wasn’t so desperate, he would feel proud for himself that he didn’t break down yet. Tears burned in his eyes occasionally, but they never spilled. Until they arrived.

Rhys kept what he hoped was a glare on his face, trying to look tough and be cool about being kidnapped. He is dating the coolest man in the universe. Surely, he learned a few tricks from him…

He is led at gunpoint to an old warehouse. It’s dark, cold and full of dust. Perfect for a kidnapping, really. Probably abandoned and forgotten.

Zed forces him to sit on a chair and ties him to it. Tears threaten to spill again as Rhys’ face burns in humiliation. He thought that he’d already accepted his body how it is, but as Zed ties his left hand to the side of the chair, muttering a fucking _haiku_ about having to be creative where classical handcuffs don’t work, he hates it. His legs are tied too, and then Rogers pulls out duct tape. But before he can use it, more people join them.

Rhys pales, throwing away any façade. The first person, he recognises immediately. Mordecai. The chef, or whoever he really is, smirks at him, not hiding that they are familiar. This is not good.

Another person is a huge man, maybe bigger than Wilhelm, and Rhys is sure he could snap him in half with one hand. And the last one, a woman with red hair and blue tattoos. _That bitch Lilith._

“Hello, killer,” she greets him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say it with me: That bitch, Lilith.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: description of torture
> 
> Strap in, pumpkins!

Jack is not a patient man, not in this. He keeps telling himself that the drive is probably slow, there is snow and people panicking because they forgot what the white substance falling from the sky even is. Forty minutes, that’s not that much.

An hour, though… Maybe Rhys went to bed and forgot to call Jack. That is probably the case. He surely won’t mind if Jack checks on him quickly, right…?

Before he can dial the number, Timothy’s nickname appears on the screen, and Jack picks up.

“Jack, is Rhys coming home or not?” he asks, sounding mildly annoyed. “I made tea for him, and—”

Jack hangs up before he even processes that, immediately dialling Rhys’ comm. But it doesn’t even connect, the device being without battery or destroyed. The first thought leaves his mind as soon as it enters it, leaving only panic. Where is Rhys?!

“Wilhelm!” Jack calls out, focusing to turn fear into rage. That bastard Zer0. He is so gonna murder him with his bare hands!

The bodyguard walks in, confused and slightly set off, looking around for danger. “Jack?”

“I think Rogers betrayed us. Rhys didn’t arrive home, and I can’t reach is comm. Get everybody, and tell them— Tell them that it’s fucking murder time!”

* * *

The first hit is a surprise. Rhys yelps and the tears – until now welled in his eyes, threatening to spill – now finally stream down his face.

“Oh, how can someone so fragile be with Jack? How did he not break you yet?” Lilith sneers, her voice full of joy at seeing him suffer.

Rhys has an idea what this is about. Still, it feels terribly unfair. He’d never done anything to her. He was probably still in Pandora, only driving to Elpis every day for school, when this all started. Why is it him in this chair?

“Why am I here?” he asks, sounding pathetic.

“Well, ask Zer0,” she nods towards the man, but he doesn’t move, still staring at Rhys, watching him like he was to try and run. She explains it instead of him, in the end. “Handsome Jack, your boyfriend and boss, killed my boyfriend and never got punished. I swore revenge on him. I asked Zer0 to bring me the most precious person in his life. Zer0 believes that it is not Angel, because the poor kid is just an object to Jack. But you – Jack is so protective of you, so caring and loving – you are perfect for this.” She steps closer, leaning in and causing Rhys to lean back. “I will enjoy every second of destroying the dearest thing in his life.”

Rhys is slapped again. This time, he expects it, but it isn’t much easier. It stings and burns. “You are a psychopath!” he screams at her retreating back, chest heaving in panic, but he can at least pretend to be brave for this.

She just chuckles. “You would know that, right, psycho?”

* * *

The biggest mistake in many people’s lives was to underestimate Handsome Jack. Sometimes, he even felt offended that someone thought so low of him. This time, he was almost giddy with excitement, because this mistake will finally bring Lilith down.

The first video came from a completely anonymous source, giving them no hint as to where Rhys is. The only thing the seven second feed showed them was the young man being beaten. It made Jack’s blood boil, and he might have smashed the screen of his computer, but fortunately, there was his better self – Tim.

The twin had a side to him that not many people knew. To lot of their shared friends, Tim was just a shy, passive and innocent teddy bear. But when somebody was in danger, Tim could become a grizzly bear, tearing people apart with efficiency. He wasn’t as hot-blooded as Jack, and efficiency was the key in such situations.

“You said they left the city heading east, and the arm was found…” his finger hovered over a map of Elpis, “there, right?” He drew a small star on that spot. Looking at the video again, on an ECHO pad this time, he remained cold as a frozen river the whole time. Then, he looked something up on the echonet, compared it to the map, and drew a circle in a seemingly random area.

“He is somewhere there,” he says confidently. “It’s hundreds of square kilometres, but it’s better than the whole Elpis. Now we just have to—”

“How’d you know?” Jack asks, stopping in his pacing. “We don’t have time for guesses.”

“It’s not a guess,” Timothy frowns. “There is a Dahl container in the background of the video. The code on it shows that it was used for unrefined iron ore, and so I looked up where—”

“Genius!” Jack interrupts him again. “What are you waiting for? Let’s find him!”

* * *

“Y-you know,” Rhys can’t stop the trembling, or his stutter, but every time he speaks, Mordecai and the other guy grow uneasy, and so he keeps trying, “hurting an innocent lovestruck fool for a crime that was never confirmed is pretty low. Something only _bandits_ and _terrorists_ from Pandora would do.”

Lilith doesn’t seem to be listening to him, but the way Mordecai turns away when Rhys coughs and spits out blood is promising. “I don’t know what happened back then, but… I don’t think Jack would kill your boyfriend just for the little hassle. He is not like that. Not when you know him. What he is showing to the world – it’s just a mask. He is different inside.”

The redhead scoffs. “You are right,” she says. “It’s just a mask. What you are seeing is a lie. Handsome Jack doesn’t know love, you fool!”

“He does! He loved his wife, too! I can even prove it.” He wants to laugh at the silly argument, but his eyes land upon something in the woman’s hand. A taser.

“You are brainwashed, kid,” she laughs.

“Fuck you—” is all he manages to say before his whole body seizes up in pain. He didn’t expect the device to be used, and now he almost wants to come up with an act of _oh, I don’t actually like him, so please stop tasing me, it fuckin’ hurts!_ But he can’t do this to Jack, and he can’t say anything anyway, because after the seizures are gone, his tongue feels swollen, too heavy to speak.

* * *

 _“No, wait! J-_ ack! _”_

He can’t stop playing the feed over and over. It feels like Rhys’ pain hurts him too, and he deserves to be hurt like this, because he let this happen. Hell, he served his boyfriend on a silver plate to a bunch of terrorists just because he had a _bad feeling_! He deserves more pain. Ideally, the pain of breaking his knuckles on the bandits’ skulls.

“Stop it, Jack,” Tim groans, head hitting the headrest of his car seat.

 _“He is a psychopath, jackass! He started war in your country for fun and money. Mostly fun. Why do you keep calling for him?!”_ Lilith’s voice speaks from somewhere close to the camera. They grew less careful with their videos.

Rhys, the idiot, keeps up his act of _I can totally take this torture like a freakin’ James Bond_. _“Because,”_ he seethes – or tries to, anyway, _“I am in pain, and I love Jack, and when people are in pain, they want their loved ones close. It’s simple as that, you psycho—_ Aaaah! _”_

At least Jack knows that the shocks aren’t really harmful. They aren’t trying to really hurt Rhys, yet. They just enjoy making him scream and then filming it for Jack.

He tries not to cling to Rhys’ words. This is not the time to swoon like a teenage girl. Not that he thinks Angel would swoon now that he sees the fire in her eyes, fire that promises revenge. There is a certain kind of force and hurt only women are capable of, but as much as he is curious to see what would his daughter do to the woman that keeps trying to ruin their lives, he isn’t going to let her go with them. Even allowing her to drive to the hangars is almost too much. Not that he had a choice.

“Did you find him yet?” she strode into the office like she owned that place, Axton only a few paces behind her, completely out of breath. “What do we have? Do we know what they want?”

Apparently, Gortys wasn’t just a companion bot. The robot heard Timothy when he talked about Rhys being kidnapped and notified Angel. Now, they both wanted to help, the red and silver ball arriving with the girl, side by side.

Jack wanted to say that he is impressed and proud when his daughter’s robot helped them process all the data they had, all the much faster, and gave them three locations where Rhys could be. A barely legal hacking trip through public security cameras, and Jack got the right location. And he really planned to tell his daughter how glad he is that she showed up, and that she is a genius and he is proud, but what came out of his mouth was a snarl about being grounded for leaving the house and stealing a car, and a growled command for everybody to start moving.

“The helicopter is ready, and the police is almost convinced,” Nisha informs him, already waiting by his private hangar when they arrive.

“Throw in another ten million,” he orders mindlessly, still watching the video.

 _“The war ruined your country!”_ Lilith in the feed snarls when Rhys calms down enough after the shock. She knows so well what she is doing, and Jack hates it.

 _“Nothing good ever came from Pandora! It had always been a shithole, and the war changed_ nothing _!”_ Rhys argues.

 _“You came from Pandora,”_ Lilith reminds him.

This hits Rhys visibly, and he is much quieter when he mumbles: _“Like I said. Nothing good about a suicidal cripple.”_ Then the feed cuts off abruptly.

* * *

They had a fight, finally. Rhys is not sure what broke the men, but they tried to talk some sense into Lilith. He couldn’t tell if he was feeling grateful, though.

They argued that he is just a lovestruck fool, and he has nothing to do with this. Much like he said before. They wanted to use him as a bait and kill Jack but leave Rhys alone. But the redhead was adamant on breaking him, destroying anything Jack loves.

They made a compromise. If the men manage to talk some sense into Rhys in an hour, Lilith will leave him alone. If he is still a moron, she will continue what she did. Now, here they are, and Rhys doesn’t like it.

“Hey, boy, I know how you feel,” Mordecai says, sounding almost friendly. “You are young, confused, want somebody to take care of you… Jack is not the right guy to take care of anyone. He might look like a good, caring partner, but it’s just a game to him. He knows that he needs to put food and water in, and out falls a sleepy pup like you. Like coding, programming. It’s how psychopaths work. That’s why he can memorise your crazy meds schedule and keep track of your sleep pattern and everything else.”

Rhys hates it, _hates it._ It sounds wrong, so wrong, but he can’t think of anything to say to that, to counter those hurting words. It’s not like that! He saw it in Jack’s eyes – he has feelings! He just learned to hide them, to erase any vulnerability.

“Jack is a bad man. As much as you hate Pandora, people died and are still dying in that war. By helping him, siding with him, you are supporting war, deaths of thousands of people.”

That makes Rhys a bad parson too. But only if Jack actually is a bad person, and he is not! He is a hero! He will save Pandora, clean it of crime. He will make it a safer place for kids like Sasha and Fiona!

He didn’t say a peep during the sixty minutes of the worst psychological torture he can imagine. The two men were patient, like they were trying to explain to a child that Santa isn’t real. They pretend to care for him. They are nice, but under that, he _knows_ that they are just bandits.

* * *

“Stop looking at that!” Timothy snaps and tries to snatch the comm away from his brother’s hands. “It’s not helping. We are nearly there, Jack, and we need to focus.”

 _“Go to hell!”_ Rhys in the video screams. _“Jack is a_ hero! _He isn’t lying!”_ There is a cracking sound as the taser is set on a higher setting. _“He_ has _some feeling for me! I’m not a tool!_ Aaaaah! _”_ And Rhys’ scream is much more pained than before.

 _“Stop it, killer,_ ” Lilith growls. _“You are just making me want to rip your throat out.”_

“I said _stop_!”

The comm is yanked from his hands, and Jack is immediately ready to start a fight, willing to hurt his little brother if it means seeing the proof that Rhys is still alive at least once more, but then the car is stopping. They arrived.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Surprise update attack!*
> 
> You might have noticed that the chapter count went from 30 to 22. I'm sorry, but I decided that this story won't get act four, not now, if ever. But it won't be unfinished, there won't be any cliffhangers. This story is complete after this act, and act four and the little epilogue I had planned would only be a bonus.
> 
> I considered removing any hints on act four, but... nah. :) Enjoy!

Rhys is shivering, freezing. He is drenched in sweat, and the warehouse is cold. The three are arguing again, Zer0 nowhere to be seen. The coldness bothers him, but the idea that they might talk to him again, like they did before, bothers him more. He doesn’t want to hear their lies; he just wants a hug.

Lilith comes striding to him, a cruel smile on her face. She won, this time. “Had a nice break, killer?” she asks, pulling her fist back to punch him.

There is the thunderous sound of shooting, multiplied into hundreds of broken echoes in the huge warehouse. The redhead stops mid-move, paling.

“Lilith, run!” Mordecai runs towards her. The shooting ended as soon as it begun, but he is covering, expecting more to come. “They found us!” he states the obvious.

Against his physical and mental exhaustion, and his better judgement, Rhys smiles victoriously. Jack is coming for him. He won.

“He will be late,” Lilith decides, pulling a knife from her shoe.

Rhys doesn’t even have the time to panic. His eyes follow the long edge of the knife, and they come upon something else. The police. Two dozen heavily armed men pour into the room, screaming orders and threats.

Among them, right behind the first two, there is Jack. Distantly, Rhys notes that the CEO of Hyperion looks very good with a black bulletproof vest over his usual work clothes, a gun in his hand, and his face, _oh my God_ … They should do a photoshoot like that sometimes. That’s definitely not the normal thing to think about when there is a long knife about to be rammed into your chest.

Mordecai shouts something, hesitates for another moment, and then he raises his arms. Lilith is hesitating too. Rhys’ eyes are still on the men and women in front of him.

Axton is missing, he notes. Nisha is there, by Jack’s side. Her pistol is pointing at Lilith, and she is saying something to Jack, face cold. She is ready to kill. There are Wilhelm and Timothy, both looking just as furious. And there is a lot of policemen.

Finally, Lilith drops the knife. Immediately, she is yanked away from Rhys by one of the cops. He seems to be the one in command of the action, but he looks at Jack as he grips the woman’s upper arm.

Jack stops. He gives the woman one hateful look, and then asks the commander: “They’ve put up a lot of resistance during the arrest, right?” he asks. His voice sends chills down Rhys’ spine, but he feels no sympathy for the people when the man of the law nods.

He punches her once. It sends Lilith to the ground, the CEO’s punch undoubtedly strong, but then he loses interest in her. Instead of him, Timothy steps forward, and Rhys sees something he doesn’t really believe. If somebody, at any point of his life, told him that Timothy Lawrence, the shy, skittish author of children’s books, is going to kick a woman in the face, he would laugh at them.

“That’s for three months of doctors, surgeries and hospital visits with my brother,” he says, voice breaking, but posture controlled. He kicks her in the chest. “This is for targeting Angel last year.” He steps away, briefly looking at Wilhelm. “And for Rhys. Enjoy.”

Wilhelm drags the woman away. She doesn’t go without a fight. She kicks out, scratches at him, swears profanities. But her slender body stands no chance against the big man.

Rhys realises that the ropes that bound him are gone only when Jack kneels in front of him and gently takes his hand. “Baby? Are you alright?” he asks, voice quiet, caring, so gentle that Rhys forgets all the venomous thoughts the two men put into him.

“I-I think so,” he nods. “E-everything hurts, but I don’t think I’m hurt.”

“Your face is swollen,” Jack points out gently, one hand hovering over the undoubtedly ugly bruises. “And you are burnt,” he nods towards the places on Rhys’ arm where he was tased.

“Oh,” he says. Those he didn’t feel until now, adrenaline pushing them away. But now, he feels them, and it makes him tear up.

“Let’s get you to a hospital. A helicopter will be there in a minute. Can you walk?” Jack asks, already pulling Rhys to his feet slowly. He supports most of his weight as they are escorted by four men out of the warehouse.

No matter where Rhys looks, he doesn’t see where Mordecai, Brick or Lilith are. Or Zed. Suddenly, he is scared again, even though Jack’s presence was enough to make him calm in the face of death by being gutted by a psycho.

“Jack, Zer0 – he was here too. Did you get him?” he asks. He feels like the hitman is behind every corner, ready to jump out and hurt Jack. He fears he wouldn’t be fast enough to put himself between his boyfriend and danger.

“He’s already on a plane to Hera. Some men are after him – some officially, some sent by me – but I doubt anybody will get him. He is a traitor, a terrorist, but he is damn good. Don’t worry about him, though,” he squeezes Rhys’ shoulder. “I’m sure he won’t target us anytime soon.”

“O-okay,” Rhys lets himself be soothed.

The weather outside is even worse than in the old building, and Jack tears the bulletproof west off himself, tossing it away carelessly. He takes his jacket off and wraps it around the shivering man, pulling him closer so they can share warmth.

“You are freezing,” the CEO notes.

Rhys shivers. “Bitch tore my shirt so she could tase me directly. I liked that shirt.”

There is a short silence, but then Jack suddenly asks: “Will you mind if Lilith dies tonight?”

Rhys isn’t really thinking about the answer, but he takes a minute to gather the courage to say it. He is just telling himself that it is alright to feel that way. “… No.”

Jack nods. He hugs Rhys tighter. Even that doesn’t seem to be enough, and he buries his nose in the young man’s hair. “I was scared, Rhys…” he says. “I… I need to… Rhys…” he pulls away, standing at armlength, looking him directly in the eye. “I love you.”

A beat. “I love you,” he repeats. “Rhys, I need you to know. I love you, and I was scared, and I blamed myself for this. You… Rhys, you are… damn!”

Jack’s lips are hot on his, kiss hungry, almost crushing. Rhys pushes closer, fingers curling in Jack’s shirt to pull him closer, but—

“Ow!”

They part, and Rhys throws an accusing glance to his aching arm. The movement made the burn marks wake up and shoot pain through his upper body.

“Where is the freakin’ medic they insisted on bringing?” Jack hisses, hand, once again, hovering just over the wounds but not touching. Just as he finishes saying that, the sound of a helicopter reaches them. It lands not even a minute later, and Jack, Rhys and Timothy are given helmets and led in.

The flight to Helios is long and cold, and eventually, all the available blankets are wrapped around Rhys because of his constant shiver. Nobody says anything after Jack threatens to throw a soldier – real Hyperion soldier – out of the copter for waking Rhys up from his minute sleep. The younger man keeps dozing off on Jack’s shoulder, tired from the past day.

It’s bright morning when they land on the roof of the private hospital in Helios. A team of medics is waiting for them, wheelchair, stretcher, bed on wheels, and five red bags among them. It hits Rhys that this is probably not _one_ team of medics.

He is sat on the wheelchair and taken in. During his examination, a policeman is present, taking a few photos of the wounds for the future case.

Jack is present too, his glare so hard nobody dares to even suggest he should leave. His word is the last word in any debate, including Rhys’ stay (“Yes, he will stay here for twenty-four hours, so he can get the best care.”) and Jack’s stay (“Did I hear “Sir, that’s not possible,” or are you keeping your job, nurse?”).

Rhys falls asleep as soon as his back hits the bed, the pain medication helping greatly. He wakes up every time Jack moves on the chair beside his bed but falls asleep after making sure he didn’t leave.

* * *

“Hey, Rhysie, sweetheart…” Jack’s voice gently pulls him from the pleasant calm of sleep.

“‘m tired,” Rhys whines, trying to pull away from the hand on his shoulder that keeps shaking him lightly. Truthfully, he slept for nearly twenty-four hours, only ever awake long enough to eat and use the bathroom. It didn’t concern the doctors; it was only natural for Rhys’ body to save energy after such a rough day.

“I know, baby,” Jack hums, opting for a different strategy. He pulls Rhys up into a sitting position, ruffling some pillows so he can lean onto something. “But we need you to be awake for a while.”

 _We?_ That got Rhys to half-open his right eye, looking around the room. Him and Jack were still the only two people there, and so he let both his eyes fall closed again. “Who?” he murmurs.

“Maya will be there in half an hour to talk to you,” Jack reminds. It was said before, but Rhys was mostly asleep and didn’t care. He knew Jack will take care of everything for him.

“Then wake me in twenty minutes,” he decides, trying to find a comfortable position when sitting up, so he can sleep some more. Every bit of his body feels heavy, like there was lead instead of blood in his veins. He supposed it was a part of healing from so many shocks.

Jack obviously found his sleepiness amusing, but he didn’t leave Rhys alone. “No can do, cupcake,” he said as he moved Rhys, so he sat even straighter. “You need to fully wake up, and we need to talk for a little.” He switched strategies again. “I have a bribe. Wil brought me a chocolate bar. It’s yours, if you open your eyes now.”

A little bit more awake, Rhys became sly. He smirked, blinked his eyes open for a second, and then closed them again. He outstretches his left hand, waiting for his prize.

“Little piece of shit,” Jack chuckles, sounding more than amused. He places something in Rhys’ hand, heavy and a little cold.

Rhys had to open his eyes again to make sure it is what he thinks it is. _Hera_ , chocolate and caramel. His favourite sweet. His mouth filled with saliva, and he tore the wrapper open with his teeth and got to eating.

“You are so simple, kitten,” Jack chuckles again.

“Shut up,” Rhys retorts with his mouth full of the sweet. “What do you want to talk about?”

“How are you feeling,” Jack simply states. “I think it would be good if you think about it now, so you have a relatively clean head when Maya comes…” The worry that Rhys might get sent back into the asylum if he says something unnerving is left unspoken.

“I actually… don’t feel anything?” Rhys says, unsure. “Like, it was scary, very scary, and—" His voice breaks when the memories flood him, but Jack is there by his side in an instant, and he hugs him protectively. “I don’t think I was scared of death,” he shrugs. “I was only worried about you. They wanted to hurt you, and… I love you, Jack.”

The soft smile that spreads on the CEO’s face says nothing about him being a dangerous maniac like the bandits claimed. Rhys loves that, loves hat he is allowed to see the truth. Jack is just a human when he says: “I love you too, pumpkin.”

“Will you be alright?” he asks. “You tell me anything you need, okay?”

Rhys grins, the awesome kind of a _happyhappyhappy_ smile. He leans in to kiss Jack, and when he pulls back, he is almost giggling. “Bring me more chocolate while I am talking to Maya, will you?”

Jack snorts, but then there is a knock on the door, and he is standing up, smoothing his clothes down and putting on sunglasses. “Come in,” he calls when he is satisfied with his image.

“Hello, Mr Lawrence, Rhys,” Maya comes in and greets them with a smile. “This is Doctor Zarpedon. She is a forensic psychologist, and she will be present to our consultation. She might also ask you a few question related to your kidnapping. Are you alright with that?”

Did Rhys really have a choice? Maya seemed to be honest, but the stern, professional and unwelcoming glare from Zarpedon seemed to say something else. “If I refuse, it will make the trial complicated, right?” he asks tentatively. He doesn’t like the idea of opening up in front of an absolute stranger, but after what he saw in the warehouse after the police arrived, it wouldn’t do the family any good if they didn’t have enough evidence to work with because of him.

Before Maya could answer, Jack spoke up. “You don’t have to do anything, Rhysie. We have enough evidence for the trial, you can’t be forced into this.”

Although he believed Jack, the young man chose to agree to this. “It’s alright. I don’t mind.” He believed the lady would be professional, given that she was from police, after all.

He was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chap comes out on Saturday unless I go full idiot and forget to do so.


	22. Chapter 22

After Jack left, Maya started asking him the usual questions, easing him into the nice, familiar atmosphere they usually shared. He told her what he told Jack – that he doesn’t feel anything right now. In Maya’s opinion, it would take longer for everything to fully settle in, and then he might begin to be affected by the experience. It would be critical for him to talk to someone, and Rhys agreed to see Maya more often in the upcoming weeks.

Then Zarpedon started asking questions. They were not what Rhys expected, and he felt more than a little unsettled by them. _What is the relationship between you and Jack Lawrence?_ He is my boyfriend. _Do you have regular sexual intercourse?_ I’m not answering that. _Does Jack Lawrence, or did he in the past, offer you money or other commodities in exchange for sexual favours?_ No. _Did any of your kidnappers demand sexual favours from you?_ No. _What’s your stance towards the war in Pandora?_ How is that relevant?!

Maya seemed to be unsettled too, but she kept a professional face, only stepping in when Rhys needed help defending himself. The fact that he needed to defend himself when he was the victim in this situation was more than unnerving.

The session was more than two hours long, and fortunately, most of it was Rhys talking with Maya. When the two women left, Jack came in with a linen sack thrown over his shoulder and huge grin on his face.

“What did you do?” Rhys asks, suspicion rising as the sack moves, multiple things seeming to move around in it. “Tell me it isn’t something creepy. Or worse.”

“You wound me, kitten,” Jack puts one hand on his chest. “ _I_ am a _saint_. Why would I bring something creepy, like Lilith’s head, in this totally normal bag?”

Rhys feels himself pale. “Tell me it’s not Lilith’s head.”

Jack can’t hold it anymore, and he doubles over laughing. The sack is dropped by the bed while he heaves and holds his stomach.

Rhys shuffles forward on the bed, cautiously poking the sack with his foot. It moves, opens, and a simple Hera bar falls out. Puzzled, he looks inside to find more of those, and even more of different chocolate bars, bonbonnieres and candy. He is sure his eyes turn to little heart signs – the way Jack hollers when he looks at him hinting at it.

“Thank you, I guess,” Rhys says shyly. “This might even last a week.”

Jack wipes tears from his eyes and sits next to him, stealing a kiss. “Nah,” he says when he pulls away. “I give it five days at best.”

“But seriously, did you rob a chocolate shop?” Rhys picks a chocolate bar with hazel nuts and tears the wrapping, but he keeps an eye on Jack for reaction.

“I did,” Jack confesses with a smug smirk. “Then I paid for it way more than it costs, but I swear I came in the shop with the sack on my shoulder and a clown mask on my face. You should’ve seen the face the shop assistant made! Young girl, looked really scared. I definitely need to do shit like that more often.”

 _Wonder why they admitted him to a psychiatric hospital_ , Rhys thinks as he nibbles on the sweet. Then his mood sours a little. “And… Lilith? Is she…” a gulp, “is she dead?”

Jack’s face turns serious too. “Would you want to know if she was or wasn’t?”

Thinking about it – “No. Don’t tell me.”

Rhys doesn’t want to know if people died because of him. Sure, they hurt him. And he knew that much more people died every day because of the war Jack st— supported; and he didn’t mind the metaphorical blood on his boyfriend’s hands. _(Hello, killer.)_

“Hey, have you seen this?” Jack perks up. He rummages through the sack for a long time before eventually pulling out—

The most awesome socks Rhys had seen in… at least a month! “Whoa, Jack, these are awesome!” he snatches them from his hand to bring them closer to his eyes. The socks are bright yellow with little half-eaten chocolate bars on them. He knows that Jack had probably physically suffered while buying them, but he knows how much Rhys likes these things. That is love, not calculation.

“They said I’m the most precious thing in your life,” he notes. “I feel like a piece of treasure.”

“Because you are,” Jack huffs carelessly, though his eyes are on Rhys and his happy face. “And all mine.”

* * *

“Welcome home!”

Most of the household was standing in the living room, waiting for them, when they arrived. Suddenly, it made much more sense that Jack demanded Rhys to wear slacks and a dress shirt for the ride home. He had a party planned.

“Thank you,” Rhys sighs, close to tears and actually not ashamed for it. He has the right to be a little emotional. It was weird that he actually didn’t _feel_ emotional, but there were tears in his eyes, so he supposed everything was normal.

“I’m so glad to see you, Rhys!” Gortys exclaims, the lights that help her form basic facial expressions mirroring the excitement of her robotic voice. “I can’t wait for— Uhm, for the surprise that is totally a secret and I didn’t say anything about it. Forget it. Please.” Her tiny robotic hands fidget.

Rhys smirks while half of the room facepalms. Jack groans, and then chuckles. He didn’t like Gortys at first, but it seems that the kind, cheerful robot found its way into his heart. Much like Rhys did. Jack has a thing for sweet little things. Not that he’d ever admit to smile at Gortys’ funny ramblings and escapades.

Because it was probably him who planned this whole thing, Rhys turns to Jack. “Surprise?” he asks, trying to push away a smug smirk.

The older man sighs, and as if on cue, Tim hands him a small package. It’s wrapped in Hyperion yellow paper, with big black bow. But overall, it’s small, maybe medium in size. Jack takes it from his brother and gives it to Rhys with a wink.

Rhys blushes and turns his face away from everybody for a second. He doesn’t have his cybernetic arm; it’s in repair right now. Unwrapping a present… won’t be impossible, but it will be humiliating. He knows, in theory, that these people will never judge him, but try and tell this to his blushing cheeks.

Finally, he gets an idea that will save him. “Gortys, could you help me with that?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” she said, twiddling her robo-arms. “It’s yours, Rhys. You should open it.”

“Yeah, but I can’t do this myself, and I thought you would want to try opening a gift. Did you ever open any?”

“I did not,” she admits, taking the gift from him. “I’m so excited! Let’s do this, Gortys!” Everybody chuckles at the tiny robot motivation speeching herself.

When the thing is unwrapped, she gives it back to Rhys. It’s a book. No, not just a book. It’s notes of songs, classics he used to play, but…

He tries to smile, but it makes his shoulder slump a little. “This is nice. Thank you. But… I won’t be able to play any of that.” He skims through the book, shamelessly using Jack as a table. “No, the arm I had is too rough and clumsy; I’d break the keys.”

“I know that, pumpkin.” Jack’s smile never leaves his face. “You forgot I own Hyperion? Everything goes through me. I know the perks of our product, every single piece—”

“For God’s sake, Jack, stop boasting and get to the point!” Nisha stops his ramble.

Jack glares at her, but then he nods at Tim, and the twin brings another, bigger box. It looks heavy, and Jack opens it for Rhys.

Inside, there is the most beautiful piece of cybernetics Rhys had ever seen. It’s an arm, much smoother and more elegant than the yellow one. It’s chrome, silvery, shiny and _beautiful_.

“That… that’s for me?” he asks dumbly.

“No shit, idiot,” Gaige suddenly stands behind him, making him jump and almost yell in surprise. “Put it on. I want to make sure it won’t fry your brain or something… Just kidding, jeez,” she rolls her eyes at the face he makes. “But you will probably fell pretty overwhelmed. Jack’s got you the second best model we have now, and only because I forbid him to burn your nerves off completely with the best one.”

Second best model, but that would mean... Would he be able to...? “Does it have pressure sensors?”

“And much more,” Jack hums approvingly.

Unable to wait anymore, Rhys heads to the kitchen, Tim, Jack and Gaige following. He takes off his shirt and lets Gaige put the arm to his neural port. She walks him through the process of putting it on, and then it powers up.

It feels so different that Rhys’ legs turn weak for a while, and he almost falls, supporting himself on the table with the arm out of instinct. He gasps as his brain registers the touch. It doesn’t feel like touch should feel, but he _feels_ it, and it’s so awesome that he forgets about his dizziness and starts touching the table tentatively, applying more pressure when his fingers pass the edge.

“I take it that everything is working,” Gaige laughs. “If you feel like your brain is melting, scream.” She walks away while Jack helps Rhys put the shirt back on, removing the pin that held the right sleeve rolled up.

The pressure sensors are only on the hand, which Rhys is grateful for. He is not sure he would be able to handle so many new signals if he was forced to feel the fabric of his shirt touching the arm too.

But Jack makes him feel something different, probably just as overwhelming. He takes both his hands, kissing the top of the left and then the right. Rhys gasps again, closing his eyes and relishing in the way he feels something he said goodbye to long ago.

“You feelin’ okay?” Jack asks. “If you feel like you might faint, we will have to take it off. You shouldn’t have it for more than an hour anyway.”

“The piano,” Rhys remembers. “I want to try it!”

He is pulling Jack (with his right hand, gently holding him by his upper arm) towards the living room before he can say anything. “I know it might not work. It probably won’t. But I need to try.” He makes Jack stand nearby as he sits down, positioning both hands where they belong. He presses down the first key.

* * *

Jack knew what to expect. He watched Rhys cheer the first time his fingers wiggled, he watched him frown in concentration as he tried to flip him off. He knew the process of getting used to cybernetics after missing a body part for a long period of time well.

Rhys was excited, and so he didn’t want to be the one to stop him. He waited patiently by his side, exchanging only one glance with TimTam. If he could tell by his face, the twin was just as concerned. He was there for Rhys when Jack shut himself off, sharing the little victories with him instead of his older brother. He felt a pang of guilt in his chest remembering the mess that led to a month of isolation.

He watched Rhys’ fingers finally move, expected the unpleasant sound of a slip or a too hard hit... But that didn’t happen. Instead, a few notes echoed through the room.

Rhys seemed pleased, and he continued moving his fingers and... playing. With all ten fingers. Like he did it every day. Like it was natural to him. He played like he’d never even stopped.

Jack's mouth hung open in a way that was unacceptable for the CEO, the Man of The Year. But he couldn’t get the willpower to shut his mouth, because Rhys played... Damn, he played even better than Angel. (Not that Jack would ever compare them out loud.) Jack knew the song, the melody. It was a soundtrack from some old movie. But the way Rhys played it, in his own (not FFF) style, it was like he created something completely new. Jack loved it. Loved the man at the piano.

When Rhys ended the song, everybody was silent for a second before Angel started clapping and the rest joined. Except for Jack who pulled Rhys up and kissed him like he was making a point, taking his breath away. “That was... magical,” he admitted, not caring in the slightest bit about how sappy and stupid it was when it made his boyfriend giggle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, time for my heart-wrenching speech. *taps mic three times*
> 
> This work had been a ride. The original idea was only that I wanted to hear Jack screaming _Do you know who I am?!_ and Rhys saying _All I want is for my head to stop trying to kill me._ And look where the prompt took me!
> 
> Act four... It might happen. I already have ~15k words written, but that only covers half of the outline, if not less. So yeah, it will be hard to finish that, and I can't promise I will. And that's why the story ends now.
> 
> So, what are your thoughts? Favourite moments? I would love if you left a comment! :)
> 
> I love you all, love all your feedback, the comments you left and everything! Still can't say this wouldn't happen without y'all, because it _would_ , because nothing can stop me from writing. :D But this ride would be much less enjoyable if it weren't for you. So, thank you! :)
> 
> Lots of love, your Elf ^.^


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